


I See You, Till Kingdom Come

by TracyLorde



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Clarke, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Professor Bellamy, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-22 01:25:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracyLorde/pseuds/TracyLorde
Summary: Clarke Griffin finds herself starting over in her hometown of Walden following the sudden death of her girlfriend Lexa. She begins to reconnect with friends with whom she’d lost touch, including Bellamy Blake.





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! 
> 
> Inspired by major Season 4 finale feels, Virgil's Georgics (sort of...), and the desire to give these poor kids a happy ending (including Raven, Abby, and Kane!). 
> 
> Title from 3 Rounds & a Sound by Blind Pilot.

_I’m not running away, I’m just coping. I’m not running. I’m starting over. I’m not running_. Clarke repeated this silently, over and over to herself like a mantra. She had just finished boarding her plane, her single suitcase stowed overhead, when her phone lit up with an incoming call. _Bellamy_ _Blake_. Clarke almost picked up, but tears sprung to her eyes and she realized she wouldn't be able to hold up her end of the conversation. She waited until the call ended to turn her phone off, watching as the light on the screen faded. As the plane lifted off, she stared out the window and tried in vain not to think about anything or anyone.

When her plane landed at the connection in Miami four hours later, two new text messages and a voicemail were waiting for her.

 _Raven:_ Hey babe, have a safe flight and call me when you make it to Haiti. Love you.

 _Wells:_ Missing you and your motivational speeches already. If I haven’t passed the bar by the time you get back, please kick my ass.

One voicemail. Bellamy’s number. She waited until the plane had cleared out and only the passengers headed to their final destination remained. Her row was empty. She took a deep breath, then pressed play and raised the phone to her ear.

Bellamy's deep voice seemed to reach the very core of her.

 _Clarke, hey, I know you’re probably already on your way to the airport. I just heard everything from Raven, and I just wanted to say…I’m really sorry, I wish I had been back in Walden for the funeral. I feel like an asshole, but I know that doesn’t count for much with you. I’ll spare you the excuses, but I wish there was something I could do. He paused. Please stay safe. And call me if you need anything—like an obscure Latin phrase translated, I’m pretty useless at anything else. Or don’t call. Just know, you are going to get through this. Don’t forget about us while you’re out there saving the world. And…don’t stay away forever._  
—

It had been less than three months since her girlfriend had been killed in the line of duty, but the shock hadn’t faded enough for her to really feel as if Lexa were truly gone. They had begun to build a future together, and then suddenly, one day, she was gone, and Clarke was left to pick up the pieces for a second time in her short life.

She had met Lexa at a time when she hadn’t expected to make a new connection with anyone, let alone a contender for soulmate. Their eyes had meet across the room at a political fundraiser. Lexa had smiled at her, and Clarke Griffin had instantly known this was a woman with whom she could be in love. Lexa Woods was a commanding presence: tall and beautiful, with jade eyes and cascading brown hair. She carried herself like a queen that night, the velvety black gown she wore perfectly complimenting her figure. Lexa was rising through the ranks of the DC police force and it was only natural that she would find herself at that event, given Thelonious Jaha was a born politician who was sure to make waves at the capital.

Clarke herself had been dragged to the event last minute by Thelonious’s son Wells, who wanted to give his friend a nice night out to keep her mind off things. It was just after Clarke’s college graduation from Arcadia, the prestigious university located just adjacent to Walden. She was unattached and unsure of her next move, and spending time with her mother had been difficult since her father had passed several years ago. Clarke was more thankful than words could express when Wells had picked her up and taken her out to buy a new dress, shoes, and escort her to his father’s fundraiser in DC under the guise of being his wingman. Studying for the bar preoccupied Wells most days, but he always had time for Clarke when she needed him and for that she was very grateful. Once she met Lexa, Wells teased her that she didn’t need him anymore. She and Lexa had quickly fallen into an intimacy from that first night, Clarke promising to call her the very next day.

“I can’t believe  _you_  met someone!” Wells had complained lightheartedly, on their two hour drive home. “I brought you there to be _my_ wingman!” Clarke had smiled and blushed and tucked the Lexa’s business card (with her personal cell elegantly handwritten) into her bra.

Clarke and Lexa determined they were officially dating the first time Clarke slept over. They determined they were in love three months later. A year after that, they were planning to spend the rest of their lives together. Lexa had just made detective, and she began fostering political ambitions. She asked Clarke to move to DC with her. Clarke wondering how she was going to put her fine arts major to use in such a saturated environment, but she was fully focused on supporting her partner, and Lexa assured her they would have plenty of opportunities to enjoy fine art and culture when they were settled there. It helped that her mother supported her choice, though Clarke hated to admit it. Since Lexa entered her life, Clarke and her mother had begun to rebuild some of the brokenness in their recent past. Abby respected Lexa, and was happy to see Clarke happy. It was strange, Clarke thought, to feel so happy.

Abby Griffin had found happiness again too. She remarried, though it was several years before she allowed herself to admit she was attracted to their next door neighbor, a single father of two. Marcus Kane was an excellent lawyer, a great father, and a truly kind man. It was hard for Clarke to get used to at first, but she quickly saw how much he cared for her mother, and that relieved her of much of the guilt she felt over being so distant the past few years. Marcus and Abby got married in a small ceremony downtown at the courthouse—just the couple with Marcus’ two children and Clarke, accompanied by her girlfriend. Clarke was happy for her mother, and happy for herself too. But the happiness was short lived.

Lexa was killed on a Tuesday and the funeral was on a Friday. The church was full of local dignitaries, Lexa’s coworkers, too many familiar faces. Clarke couldn’t remember feeling that claustrophobic since her father’s funeral and the parallels were far too easy to draw. She was still in shock, of course, but she could barely sit still throughout the service—she wanted to be alone so badly. Afterwards, it was all a blur of pitying looks punctuated by repeated cliches.

“She’ll be missed.”

“You’re so strong.”

_“She’s in a better place.”_

Clarke wanted to scream and cry. She wanted Lexa here with her, not in a better place. She wasn’t strong, she couldn’t keep going like this. It was too much, it was all too much—

Raven Sinclair found her hiding in the church’s tiny basement kitchen, away from all the platitudes and tears ( _who else had the right to cry like she did? be angry like she did?_ ).

“Clarke, babe—“ Clarke had jumped when the door opened, her face set in a harsh expression. But as soon as she locked eyes with Raven, Clarke completely broke down. Raven sat and held her for a long time. Clarke ended up returning to Raven’s that night, on Raven’s insistence (she was in no state to fight back), and cocooning herself in Raven’s guest room for several days.

Clarke cropped her hair short a few weeks into her grieving period. Raven found her in the bathroom, pale face fixed on her reflection in the mirror, her shoulders covered in haphazard fallen curls. She stole the scissors from Clarke with silent understanding and began to fix the straggly ends.

Clarke decided to join the International Relief Mission a few weeks later. She made the plan from start to finish before she told Raven that it was done. She had renewed her passport, sold her car, and donated all her clothes except one suitcase’s worth of underwear, practical pants and cotton tops. Raven was slightly hurt by this sudden revelation, but she had known something like this was coming. Clarke wasn’t one to marinate in her own misery for long, she was off to conquer a new goal. This was her chance to find a new purpose in life, to make a mark on the world, to do some good. Or at least to distract herself from the pain.

No stranger to pain herself, Raven Reyes had spent most of her life in the foster care system, and at age twelve had sustained a serious injury to her left hip in a car accident that proved fatal to the driver. At age fifteen, she was adopted by Jacopo and Celia Sinclair. The day the papers were signed, and they gave her their last name, was the happiest of her life. The Sinclairs gave her all the opportunities that had been out of her reach until that point, along with allowing her to afford extensive physical therapy for her injury, and with that encouragement and support she went far. At twenty-six, Raven was the rising star of the mechanical engineering department at Arcadia University, well on her way to being the youngest department head in history. She constantly surpassed expectations, never allowing herself to give up on her ambitions. and taking no nonsense from anyone. Raven didn’t resent Clarke for being so out of touch the past few years. They had met under possibly the strangest circumstances possible, and friendships forged in fire aren’t easily broken. Raven Sinclair knew better than most the value of found family. Her academic brilliance was only matched by her fierce loyalty.

Clarke had been midway through her first semester at college when she met Finn Collins. Finn was charming, earnest, handsome, and a bit of a daredevil. He courted her on the quad, followed her course schedule, and left her humorous declarations of love pinned to her dorm room mailbox. She gave himself over to him after a particularly good day, and she felt herself safe and happy as she lay in his arms that night. They dated for the next several months, and it was not until the next semester that she discovered he had a girlfriend—Raven. Finn and Raven had been best friends their entire lives, and dated all throughout high school. A year ahead of them in school, she was considering transferring to Arcadia for an engineering scholarship, which in her view had the added bonus of being near him again. The threat of exposure was the only reason Finn came clean, and Clarke couldn’t forgive herself for being so stupid as to fall for him. She contacted Raven right away, and apologized for any part she had in Finn’s wrongdoing, unable to live with the guilt. Raven, of course, did not ultimately blame Clarke, and she transferred to Arcadia regardless, partially just to spite him. Strangely, the two women found themselves becoming close despite all odds. When Jake Griffin got sick the following year, Raven was there for Clarke in ways that Clarke had no right to expect.

It was home to Raven that Clarke came after her work abroad with IRM ended. Clarke had quickly risen through the ranks, her natural capacity for leadership evident within the first few days. By the end of the year, she was working right under the program director, with the standing offer for a full time contract should she decide to return. But Clarke wasn't sure if she would. The physical distance from the site of her trauma had helped to stave off her grief, but being completely on her own was harder than she had anticipated. She often thought of her mother, fully intending to be a better daughter to Abby when she returned. She thought of Raven, and Clarke was grateful for her love despite the distance. She thought of Wells, and would email him whenever possible with a long distance quiz on torte reform. She thought of Bellamy, but couldn't bring herself to call. _He knows, he must know, how much I care for him. He must. He’d understand._

It was the end of June when Clarke returned home. Wells was in Chicago on job interviews, having passed the bar (of course) a few weeks earlier, so Raven met her alone at the airport. Clarke was so happy to see her that she cried. Raven cried a little too, embracing her best friend fiercely until honks from cars in the adjacent lane caused the women to break apart, laughing.

“I want to hear everything about this year you haven’t told me yet,” Clarke demanded, loading her suitcase into the back of Raven’s jeep.

“Well, here are the highlights since our last call: Roan’s got The Crown in the black, I’ve got my own TA (I know! finally), and Octavia Blake got engaged—you know, Lincoln Ashley, right? Yeah, she’s really happy. What are you planning now that you’re back? I’m assuming you’re considering take a break from saving the world.”

“I’m not sure, I don’t really have anything lined up. I know that’s not like me…can I crash at yours and Roan’s for a bit?”

Raven rolled her eyes at Clarke. “I already made up the guest room for you, Clarke.”

“I honestly don’t know what I do to deserve you, Raven.”

“I can’t be earned, Griffin, you know that.” Her face, alight and cocky, softened a little as she glanced at her friend in the rearview mirror. “You doing ok, though? I mean, really?”

Clarke took a deep breath, staring out the passenger window as they sped closer to home. “I actually think I am. It’s been over a year since Lexa died, and I know I will be processing this for probably the rest of my life, but I don't feel as boxed in as I used to. I think I can start to see the light at the end of the tunnel…or at least, I know it’s there.”

“You deserve some time for yourself now, Clarke. You’re going to be happy again, and you shouldn't shut yourself off from that. Don’t worry about your next plan or career—you’ll find your way. Plus, Roan can always use an extra set of hands at the bar. It’s just Jasper and Niylah left there.”

They chatted about old friends until they reached Raven’s house a short time later. It was a lovely craftsman style home that she and her partner Roan had bought a few years ago.

Roan greeted them at the door, taking Clarke’s bag while commanding their huge mutt, Shasta, to sit. He was a good match for Raven, and Clarke had always seen how much he cared for her. He was gruff but kind, never too tired after a long day to cook dinner, and never too busy in his own work to make sure she was taking care of herself. They both were independent and hard working, but they kept each other grounded. It was a relationship defined by function as well as passion. Clarke had wondered once upon a time if the bond she and Lexa had could have developed into such a perfect partnership.

“Sorry, looks like Shasta missed you,” he smirked, as he gave her a hug while the dog anxiously wiggled at Clarke’s side. “C’mon, dinner’s ready, get something to eat. I’ll put your stuff upstairs.”

Clarke followed Raven into the kitchen, where a wonderful spread of grilled zucchini, pesto pizza, and watermelon salad were waiting for them. They ate dinner outside and drank wine and though Roan went inside to sleep a few hours later, the women laughed and talked long into the night. Clarke caught a glimpse of herself in the sliding glass door as she headed to bed early the next morning, and couldn't help thinking she looked a little more like the person she remembered being. 


	2. Memories

Clarke had been back for a month when she started to think about getting her own place. Raven agreed it was probably a good time, now that she’d been able to start bringing in a little money thanks to Roan employing her at his pub. At Raven’s request, Roan introduced Clarke to a real estate agent friend of his. She took Clarke and Raven to look at a few places in Clarke’s price range, which certainly limited her options. Clarke settled on a third floor studio with a surprisingly quiet view of the downtown cobblestone street below. It was a fifteen minute walk from Roan’s bar, it was cramped, and it was desperately in need of cleaning, but it was new to her and it was her own, and Clarke could begin to make new memories in that space. Raven helped her scrub the place from top to bottom, paint the walls a crispy shade of white, and install a few bookshelves. Besides the tiny kitchen, there was just room for a bed in the corner, and a small desk that doubled as a dining table. It was all Clarke needed. 

Raven walked Shasta most mornings before heading to the university, and Clarke got in the habit of meeting her with coffee a few times a week. There was a small cafe just a few doors down from her new place, where she runs into Dr. Jackson, Abby’s colleague. She hadn’t seen many of her parents friends since the funeral, but she had always felt a kinship with Eric and it wasn’t too hard to see him. He gave her a quick hug and bought her coffee on his way out.

“We’re all rooting for you, Clarke. You’ll see the other side of this someday. If you ever need anything, Nate and I are just a phone call away.”

Abby and Marcus still invited her over for dinner every week, and sometimes she joined them. She felt a strange new kinship with her mother now, and she knows that Abby is at ease with her back in town. Marcus is fatherly and supportive as always, and the kids (Ian, 12, and Paige, 9) are happy to have their step-sister around. She picked them up from school sometimes on her days off from Roan’s. They’re smart kids, and funny, and they have the common decency not to stare at her with pity in their eyes like some of the strangers she sees. 

She found it easier to get out of bed each morning. Her job at the bar isn’t exactly a career path she’d foreseen for herself, but she finds it oddly comforting that she can project another persona while she’s working. She still felt the drive to regain complete control of her life, so one rainy Tuesday she decided to join a gym. As soon as he walked in the doors, she saw Octavia Blake. 

“Clarke!” Octavia’s face lit up when she sees her walk up to reception, she’s just finished a session with a client and she’s taking a break with the girl working the desk. Clarke was taken a bit off guard by the picture that flashes into her mind—the last time they’d seen each other was across the room at Lexa’s funeral—but she quickly recovered and accepted Octavia’s warm hug. 

“I sorry I haven't talked to you in so long, I’m so sorry for everything, I heard you were back from Haiti but I didn’t realize you were _back_ back—“ Clarke’s face was inscrutable and Octavia quickly moved on—“You really look good, I love the short hair! Hey, this is Harper by the way—“

The fit blonde girl working the desk waved and smiled.

“—Anyway, how long have you been coming here? I haven't seen you.”

 “This is the first time here, actually. I just moved downtown, off Madison, and was hoping I could join…” She drew in her breath sharply, a little nervous. “I’m trying some new things, this year…you know?”

“Totally.” Harper nodded along, completely unaware of what Clarke was inferring but meaning well, before going back to her computer.

Octavia studied her face for a second, then scrounged for a folder behind the desk, her long brown ponytail falling over her shoulder and grazing her face. “Here, I'm going to give you my friends and family discount. You don’t have to work with me but if you ever want you ass kicked I’m there!” Clarke laughed appreciatively.

“Thanks…you seem great, by the way. How are things with Lincoln?”

“He’s amazing.” Octavia’s eyes were shining. “We’re really great.” Clarke noticed a delicate silver ring on her left hand.

“I totally forgot you guys got engaged, sorry! Raven did tell me when I got back—I’ve missed a lot…congrats.”

Octavia laughed, “Yeah, it was kinda sudden but you know how those artistic types are—you were one—still are, maybe?”

“Not so much any more….I kinda gave it up after undergrad, actually.”

“Well, you should come by Lincoln’s gallery sometime. It’s on Church Street, you know the old auto warehouse? He converted it into this amazing event space and he runs a nonprofit out of it. Actually, they have a show on the 15th, he’s getting this big award—you should stop by, bring some friends, it’ll be fun!”

“Ok, that sounds great…maybe I will.” 

Octavia gave her another big hug before running off to her next client, Clarke teared up a bit but regained her composure before following Harper to the locker rooms. 

Raven ran into her on the way home, out walking the dog between appointments.

“Hey, look at you, working out! Did you join Indra’s?” 

“Yeah, I ran into Octavia and she gave me her discount. She seems really happy. It was nice to see her.”

Raven’s face seemed a bit obscure. “Yeah, I bet…glad you’re having a nice day. Want to swing by the bar later? Niylah’s out of town and I’m supposed to help Roan out and I know you’re off tonight but it would be _so_ much nicer if you were there for me to talk to.”

“I am much nicer than Roan,” Clarke winked. “Sure, I’ll see you around 9.”

Raven kissed her on the cheek. “Bye, babe. See you tonight.”

Instead of heading up to her apartment, Clarke stopped for her car and found herself driving to Abby and Marcus’ house, thinking idly of her old art supplies. She didn’t really know why she’d driven there until she was standing in the garage, spare key in hand, looking at a pile of lidded plastic bins each marked with a large “C” in painters tape. The kids were at school and Marcus and Abby were at work,  so Clarke settled in for a trip down memory lane. She grabbed a bin off the top of the pile and starts sorting through it. Old yearbooks from high school, doodles she’d passed back and forth with Wells, posters that had hung in her childhood bedroom. She’d rooted through eight out of the nine bins when she was surprised by Marcus, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen carrying his jacket and briefcase in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.

“Clarke,” his voice was surprised but gentle, “what are you doing here?” 

Marcus must have gotten off work early. He used to keep pretty late hours as a lawyer but since he’d gotten remarried he tried very hard to make it home in time to make dinner a few nights a week. 

“Hey, Marcus…just going through some old stuff.” Clarke had honestly forgotten when she was looking for, and had ended up cross legged on the floor flipping though her sophomore yearbook. 

“You wanna come inside and look at that? It’s a little muggy out here.”

Clarke hesitated. “Sure.” She grabbed a stack of  followed him inside and took a seat at the kitchen counter while he sized her up. “How have you been? We haven’t seen you for dinner in a few weeks.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Clark appreciated his concern. She somehow found it easier to talk to Marcus lately than her Mom. There was much less baggage there.

“You liking the new job?”

“At The Crown, you mean? It’s fine…I just sort of hang out and bullshit and they pay me.”

Marcus cracked a smile. “Sounds like my day.” Clarke snorted and Marcus’ eyes met hers, then he turned to the fridge with the perishables.

“You know, your mom’s just worried about you. She, if anyone, understands exactly what you are going through.”

“I know, I really do…”

“I know you know. Hey, you didn't happen to be looking for your old paints, did you?”

“How did you know?” Clarke had been thinking about her art supplies the entire ride over, but forgotten in the throws of nostalgia. 

“I had a hunch.” Marcus shrugged, a slight smile on his face, and pointed towards the stairs. “They’re up in the guest room, go ahead.”

Clarke walked past the collection of soccer gear and bike helmets in the entryway, and mounted the stairs. The guest room was upstairs and to the left. It was a well lit room, very comfortably decorated, but she had only stayed there half a dozen times since she’d moved in with Lexa. A spare set of towels sat at the foot of the bed, as if Abby perpetually awaited her homecoming. Clarke felt a little guilty as she sat at the antique desk facing a large window. She found her old paintbrushes and a box full of oil paints in one of the drawers. There was a half used sketchpad there too, and a few pencils in the mix. She took a few moments to consider whether she should take them all, then stuffed them into a tote bag that hung over the closet doorknob, and made her way back to the kitchen. Marcus was wearing a striped apron over his work clothes, chopping garlic and onions. He looked up at her with a smile when she re-entered the room.  

“You found your things alright? Good. This goes without saying, Clarke, but we’d love it if you stayed for dinner.”

Abby came home an hour later with the kids to find her husband and her daughter talking over a cup of coffee, while dinner simmered on the stove, and though she hid the initial surprise on her face, she couldn't hide a slight shimmer in her eyes when she hugged Clarke hello. Clarke understood. 

She left the house at 8:00 and headed home to change and shower before leaving for Roan’s. It was a pretty slow night, Raven was manning the taps and Clarke helping run drinks when needed but otherwise she sat at the bar and flipped through the sketchbook she had found at her mom’s earlier. It was from her junior year of high school, and the memories from that time were mostly happy ones. There was a sketch of Wells on the first page, head bent over a book in the library. Next was Octavia, eyes crinkled with laughter, looking very much the same as she did a decade later. On the page opposite her: a boy with dark eyes, freckles, an unruly head of curls he’d always let grow too long, that sideways smile revealing perfect teeth. _Bellamy Blake_.

Bellamy was Octavia’s older brother. He and his sister had moved to Walden during Clarke’s sophomore year. Their mother had recently passed away, and they had been in the foster system until Marcus, Octavia’s godfather, tracked them down, and brought them to live with him. Though he had just experienced a rather messy divorce, and had two children of his own, Marcus didn’t give it a second thought when he heard of his childhood friend’s passing. He knew neither Bellamy’s father nor Octavia’s were in the picture any longer, and he got custody of seventeen year old Bellamy and fourteen year old Octavia as soon as he legally could. 

Octavia had been a pretty, athletic freshman, instantly popular with Clarke’s friends. Bellamy was a junior. He was a good athlete as well, but an even better student, and Clarke found herself closely competing with him when it came to history and debate. From the first time they met, he was compelled to publicly challenge her at every turn, and they seemed destined to be forever at odds, but at some point that had all changed. They had become quite close during Bellamy’s senior year. He gave up sports and most of his social life to focus on college applications. He planned on taking a gap year to work multiple jobs and save up money, and Clarke ended up helping him evenings in the library, where she worked after school. He confided in her one night, telling her about how hard things had been for him and Octavia after their mom passed, and how hard they’d worked to stay together before Marcus had tracked them down and taken them in. Clarke had no idea how had losing a parent could be at that point, but had still found herself admiring his resolve and the apparent humility he’d been concealing. He walked her home from work that night, and they were nearly inseparable from that point on. 

Wells, Clarke’s oldest childhood friend, at first did not approve of this new friendship. He thought Bellamy was arrogant and brash, which at first blush he certainly was. Even Wells had to admit, however, that Bellamy’s influence looked good on Clarke. She relaxed more, and she certainly had more fun, while still maintaining her high test scores and keeping her extracurriculars going. And Clarke’s influence was good for Bellamy too. Her quiet confidence inspired him to work for what he now believed he deserved. Bellamy admired Clarke’s strength of will (though he claimed her stubbornness drove him crazy) and her insurmountable desire to hold the world to the same high standard to which she held herself. She seemed an eternal optimist in those days, full of ideas and passion, her blue eyes practically sparking whenever she and Bellamy sparred over politics or literature. He admired her eyes, too, but it was several years before he could admit their relationship hadn’t been strictly platonic on his side. 

When Bellamy was accepted to Walden Liberal Arts College on a full scholarship, Clarke was as happy and proud as could be. She applied there too, but decided in favor of the competing Arcadia University instead, returning that first summer to work at the library and spend her days off on the lake with Octavia, Bellamy, Wells, and the others. It was during that summer that she learned about her father’s cancer—advanced stage pancreatic, discovered during a routine scan, and discovered too late. Clarke and Abby were devastated. Clarke almost didn't return to school in the fall, but Jake insisted she must, told her he was so proud of her, that he loved her, that everything would be ok. Of course it wasn’t. Jake died peacefully in his sleep on Christmas Eve, his wife and daughter beside him in his hospital bed. Clarke took the spring semester off to help her mom deal with all the small, insignificant tasks that suddenly carry so much weight when a loved one passes. 

Bellamy and Octavia were there for her then, as only those can be who have suffered the same loss. Marcus came over to cook and clean regularly, with Octavia’s and the children’s help, and Bellamy took care of the yard and the car and things that Abby couldn’t find time to do most days. Raven moved in with Clarke and Abby over that semester, commuting from Walden to her classes at Arcadia from there, and keeping Clarke abreast of all the social developments she was missing.  

Lexa’s death saw a different aftermath. The relationship had been quick, passionate, all consuming. Clarke’s life had been just work and Lexa, with no room for anything else. Clarke had drifted apart from her mother by then, who had found companionship in the arms of her friend and neighbor. Octavia was busy with her current rotation of boyfriends and athletic hobbies, Raven was busy finishing graduate school, and Bellamy—Bellamy was gone. Clarke remembered the night he had told her he was taking a research fellowship at Polaris University while he worked towards his PhD. She had been so proud of him, she was always so proud of him. But that was the last they saw of each other in a while, as he was suddenly on the other side of the country. She wondered if he hated her for not calling him back, or if—even worse—he’d stopped thinking of her altogether. 

Clarke stared at the sketchpad, lost in her own thoughts for some time, before Raven startled her by slamming a glass down in front of her from the other side of the bar. 

“Hey, can you run this beer to table five—“

Clarke glanced up quickly, snapping the page shut. “Sure, sorry.” She walked over to a table where some of Roan’s regulars were sitting watching the game. 

Raven was ostensibly polishing glassware when Clarke returned, but she eyed the sketchbook curiously. “Blast from the past, eh?”

“Marcus found some of my old art stuff, so I was going through it.”

“You were at your mom’s today?”

“Yeah, I stopped by and stayed for dinner.”

Raven’s face softened. “Hey, that's great. I’m sure Abby appreciated that.”

“Yeah, it was good to see them.” Clarke smiled gently. “Hey do you know Lincoln has a gallery now? That old warehouse on Church Street.”

“No shit, really? I bet it’s great. We should check it out sometime.”

“Yeah, Octavia said there’s some kind of show coming up, want to come?”

“Sure, love to.”

“Make Roan come too.” Clarke eyed him through the kitchen pass where his wide shoulders were hunched over the flattop. He was in his natural state, swearing under his breath and cleaning every surface available.

“Yeah, I guess my man could use a night out too. It’s a date.”

Octavia texted Clarke the next day. She had gotten Clarke’s number off her gym application and wanted to make sure she relayed all the important information about the event. Clarke rsvp’ed for herself and her guests, and found herself looking forward to it. She started going to the gym a few times a week to blow off steam, and found herself comforted by Octavia’s cheerful presence. After being alone for so long, it was strange but nice to have friends who were happy to see her despite it all. 

The day of the art show Clarke went over to Raven’s to get ready. 

“I should have met you at your place,” grumbled Raven, her mouth full of bobby pins, “less dog hair.”

“It’s fine, I bet we won’t even know anyone there. Octavia said it’s mostly a younger crowd, whatever that means.”

Raven was wearing a dark orange dress that hugged her curves and her hair was teased into a more formal version of the high ponytail she had worn every day in college. She didn’t dress up often, but when she did, boy was Roan in trouble. Clarke had picked a simple navy cocktail dress that she paired with a pair of gold earrings she’d taken from Raven’s dresser. She had bought entirely new clothes since Lexa’s death, but found herself unable to keep from thinking what her girlfriend would have thought of her new appearance. She took a deep breath to center herself as Raven finished her hair, pinning a few loose curls back to frame her face.  

Raven hugged her as they surveyed the final result in the mirror. “Not too shabby, eh?”

“We look hot,” Clarke admitted.

“Yeah, we do! C’mon, lets go get Roan and make sure he’s wearing real pants.”

The three of them arrived fashionably late to the event, and Clarke could immediately see what Octavia had meant by “younger crowd.” The guests were a mixture of local dignitaries (business owners, city council members, neighbors of her parents) and high school kids. The art filled the space nicely, and Clarke was delighted to see a display of talent, though rather less experience than she had expected. The event, it turned out, was to award Lincoln an honor for his work with students in at-risk high schools in Walden and the surrounding county. He hosted after school programs and workshops in the space during the school year and ran a summer camp as well, and this show featured their artwork exclusively. Octavia was more than happy to gush to Clarke about the guest of honor when they found each other. She looked beautiful, the plunging neckline of her dark red dress revealing a delicate tattoo that traced itself down her sternum. Lincoln looked very handsome too, the sleeves of his dress shirt pushed up past his elbows to reveal some intricate and colorful tattoos of his own. He greeted Clarke and her friends warmly and thanked them for attending. Clarke summed him up quickly—he was a generous, talented person and he was clearly head over heels for Octavia. She was happy for her friend, and made a mental note to get to know Lincoln better.

It was hot and crowded in the main gallery, and Clarke found herself wandering off to a separate area to get some air while Roan and Raven hit up the bar. She slipped past a partition next to the back door and found herself in a room overflowing with oversized oil portraits, some hanging, some leaned and stacked against the wall. 

It was there that he found her. He had wandered in the side entrance, and was immediately arrested at the sight of her. He couldn’t see her face, but it was unmistakably her. The gentle slope of her shoulders, the way she stood with one leg crossed behind the other, her hands clasped behind her back, those blonde ringlets that obscured her face from view. He paused for a moment, unable to prevent a smile from spreading across his face, and then he spoke.

“Hey, princess.”

Clarke caught her breath and turned. There he was, in the flesh, looking right at her. Bellamy Blake. He looked a little tired, definitely older—his face was thinner than she remembered, and his hair was shorter. He wore dark rimmed glasses and his hands rested easily in his pants pockets, as if it was the most natural thing in the world that he would discover her here, hiding in the shadows of his sister’s fiancee’s art studio. 

She found her voice, and smiled weakly. “No one’s called me that in years.”

“I know,” His face seemed to fall a little. “Hey—“ He extended a hand, unsure of whether she was going to take it, or—

At that very moment Octavia appeared out of nowhere and charged at him.

“Big brother!” He was enveloped in her arms and Clarke saw him grin as he squeezed her back.

“Hey, O.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you had work!”

“I got it covered. You didn't think I was going to miss the big event, did you?”

Lincoln had followed close behind, drinks in hand. “I see you all found my spare studio space…this is not the main event, by the way, but I’m flattered.”

“They’re amazing, Lincoln.”

Octavia beamed and took her glass of wine, and Lincoln reached out his hand, firmly grasping Bellamy’s. “Thanks, man. It means a lot that you’re here.”

Clarke felt Bellamy’s eyes return to her face, but immediately—

“Blake! Is that you?” Raven burst upon the scene with Roan at her elbow and attacked Bellamy with another hug, and a round of general introductions were made for Roan’s benefit.

Clarke felt acutely alone in that moment, but Bellamy quickly found his way to her side.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You look nice.”

“Thanks…so do you.” Upon further inspection his pants were a little wrinkled and his sweater probably had seen better days, but Clarke found that more endearing than anything.

“How’s academia?”

“Academic as ever. How’s…home?” 

“It’s…the same.”

Bellamy studied her face quietly. Her eyes were the same bright blue, but she was certainly quieter, paler than when he had last seen her. But that had been years—

“It’s really good to see you,” he punctuated his thought by lightly touching her elbow. “Your hair looks good short.”

Clarke smiled grimly. “It’s the thing to do, apparently.”

He paused, swallowing. “Have you seen—“

She cut him off out of nervousness—“Actually, I think i’m going to get a drink.”

“I’ll come with you, I haven't been by the bar yet.”

They slipped away from the others, Clarke breathing quiet relief as Bellamy led the way through the crowds, broad shouldered as ever. 

He glanced at her when they reached the bar, then ordered two whiskeys. She smiled slightly. 

“It’s a bit weird being back, isn't it?” It was more of a statement than a question on his part.

“You’ve been gone nearly as long as I was, I guess.”

“Yeah. About.”

“You still liking Polaris?”

He considered his response. “I am, or I have been at least.”

“That’s great, Bell.” She flushed. She hadn't meant to slip so quickly into familiarity. 

He didn't look at her, but smiled into his drink. “I heard you kicked ass for International Relief Misson. You going to go back?” He tried to keep his voice casual, but wasn’t sure he was successful.

“I’m not sure.” Clarke had been considering it, but wasn’t inclined to commit one way or the other. “It was an incredible experience, and it gave me purpose in the hardest year of my life, but I’m not sure where to go from here, honestly. It’s a little hard,” she admitted, “everyone else has kept moving forward but I feel like I’ve regressed. That’s not a position I thought I’d ever find myself in.”

Bellamy studied her face for a moment. “You’re Clarke Griffin,” he shrugged. “You’ll figure it out.” He took another sip of his drink. “What have you been up to since you’ve been back? O says she’s seen you at Indra’s, you painting at all or anything?”

“Not too much—I’ve been working at Roan’s bar—just waiting tables and killing time mostly. It’s a job.” she shrugged. 

Bellamy’s jaw suddenly tightened, and he met her eyes again. “Clarke, I just want to say…I’m really sorry I didn’t come home for—after it happened. I was out on a backpacking trip that week and the news was old by the time I heard it. I just want you to know—I wish I had been there.”

“You’re not obligated to help me through every major life disaster, Bellamy.”

He seemed a little hurt, but tried to laugh it off. 

Later that evening, when Raven was walking Clarke home (Roan following at a respectful distance, smoking a cigarette),

“You and Bellamy seemed to have a lot to say to each other.”

“We didn’t really, honestly.”

“No?”

“It was weird. Good to see him, but weird. He’s still working at Polaris for the foreseeable future so I doubt he’ll be around much.”

“Yeah. Still kinda felt like the good old days.”

Clarke shook her head. “The old days, maybe.”

Raven frowned but she knew what Clarke meant.


	3. News

Clarke slept with one of the other bartenders, Niylah, a few times over the course of the next few months, and it felt so good to be held and loved and taken care of in that way again. Niylah was gentle, funny, and kind, and there were blissfully no expectations of a serious romantic relationship on either side. 

Clarke and Niylah had closed the bar together one night and one thing led to another which led to fucking in the stock room. Clarke caught herself smiling sometimes at her across the room. They stayed friends throughout, it was an exploration of their friendship on another level more than it was the start of something altogether new. They slept over at each other’s occasionally, but kept things casual other than that. Clarke hadn’t been with anyone since Lexa, and though Raven teased her about her work crush, she knew it wasn’t anything more than that. 

It was a few weeks after the gallery event when Octavia slipped a heavy square envelope into Clarke’s hand on her way out of yoga.

“Octavia, is this a wedding invitation?”

“Yeah, of _course_ you’re invited! I’m so happy you’re back. I know the circumstances are awful but we, Bell and I, really missed you. He was so happy to see you the other day, and I was so glad you came. Stop by mine and Lincoln’s sometime before the wedding, and you and Lincoln can geek out about art together.” 

Clarke couldn’t keep from smiling. “Ok, I will.”

She joined Octavia and Lincoln for dinner one night the next week, after Octavia texted her a reminder. Lincoln and Octavia lived in a turn of the century row home three blocks over from Clarke’s. Lincoln had personally adorned most of the rooms, some walls totally covered in colorful abstract murals, and others covered with intricate monochromatic patterns. It was a happy and inspiring space. Clarke liked Lincoln more and more. He was a real visionary when it came to the kids he worked with. He had a plan to make safe and productive spaces accessible to any child, and he was humble to boot. Octavia was completely in awe of him, and he was utterly infatuated by her. If Clarke had allowed herself to be jealous of their relationship, it would certainly have eaten away at her, but their love was so obviously pure and selfless that she was just astounded they had found each other.

September was there before they knew it, and the morning of the wedding Clarke called Raven, her designated plus one, and asked her come over and help her decide what to wear. There were 3 dresses laid out on the bed when her friend arrived, and Raven selected a dove grey wrap dress with gently fluttering sleeves. Clarke agreed and put it on. It had a long flowing skirt that ended just above a pair of strappy heeled sandals. Raven was already dressed in a dark green halter jumpsuit, with heels as high as physically possible, and she looked stunning as always. 

“You seem a little nervous. Are you ok?”

_Lexa was at the last wedding I went to._

Raven knew this, so Clarke just nodded. “Is Roan jealous I’m stealing you away on a hot date?” 

Raven chuckled, “He’s just glad he doesn’t have to go. Win win.” She grinned at Clarke and Clarke found herself relaxing. 

The wedding took place on a property south of Walden, in a grove by the river, and the day was completely perfect for it—sunny and clear with a slight warm breeze. It was a fairly small assembly gathered there, with only two members of the bridal party standing: Lincoln, and his sister Luna. Marcus and Bellamy escorted Octavia down the aisle as the Ceremony began, one on each of her arms, and then Bellamy took his place at his sister’s side opposite Luna.

Clarke watched Bellamy throughout the ceremony, her eyes unable to rest for long anywhere else. He was wearing a dark grey suit and crisp white shirt. His hair was combed, for once, no doubt at Octavia’s insistence. She wondered how he had really been the last several years, wished that they had kept in touch better. _You could have at least called him back, eventually._ Bellamy caught her eye for a moment and Clarke snapped her attention back to the bride and groom, who were exchanging rings, eyes locked on each others glowing faces. It made her feel a strange hollowness in her chest. Raven squeezed her hand, and Clarke squeezed back. 

Upon pronouncement of marriage, Lincoln dipped his bride and kissed her deeply. Clarke saw tears of joy well in Bellamy’s eyes. Octavia, so beautiful in a simple lace dress, looked so very happy, her happiness only matched by Lincoln’s sheer delight at his newfound ability to immediately begin using the term “wife,” in each and every context.

Bellamy found her right away at the reception. Taking no chances this time, he pulled her into a firm hug, and she leaned into him, her cheek gently resting on his shoulder. His hugs were as good as she remembered. They finally broke apart when Raven joined them with three glasses of champagne.

“You clean up alright, Blake,” Raven joked, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

“You both look beautiful,” he replied, but his eyes were fixed on Clarke. 

Raven handed over their drinks, winking at Clarke, and was gone.

“Want to dance?” Bellamy asked, looking her up and down. “That is, if you even can in those shoes.” His face wore the trademark smirk it had throughout most of high school.

Clarke laughed, truly, for the first time since he’d seen her again, and Bellamy’s heart soared that he was the cause of it. 

“Honestly, I’d rather just talk, if that’s ok with you.” She hesitated. “I’ve really missed you, Bellamy. I should have kept in touch better.” Her voice was low, apologetic, almost tearful. 

“Don’t say that.” He reached for her arm, his cheeks slightly flushed. Clarke thought he looked incredibly boyish, and somehow steered the conversation away from this dangerous area. 

“Octavia looks beautiful. She and Lincoln seem very happy. I’m amazed you let it get this far though…you were always something of an overprotective big brother, you know.”

Bellamy scoffed. “Please, you knew O back then. If you had a sibling who was that much of a handful, you’d be pulling your hair out constantly. I’m surprised I have any left.”

Clarke laughed again. She wasn’t sure if it was the champagne or the company, but she seemed to be shedding the weight of the last several years. She felt light, happy, and almost like her old self.

Bellamy hadn’t changed in his essence. He still concealed his desires and vulnerability with bravado and humor, but he had developed a kind of softness that matched his strength with equal expression. He was far more confident than he had ever been when he was younger, and he wore it well.

Clarke and Raven left a little after the bride and groom did. Bellamy squeezed Clarke’s hand gently in farewell. She didn't know when she’d see him again, and she hadn’t wanted to ask. 

“Octavia was wearing her mom’s dress, by the way, did you know?” Raven mentioned, as Roan drove them home. “Bellamy found it in a bunch of his mom’s things after she died, and kept it for his sister all this time.”

Clarke was beginning to relearn never to underestimate the depths of Bellamy Blake. 

_—_

Fall weather had finally reached Walden, and Clarke realized how much she had missed the sleepy little town. She began to put herself on a strict self care regimen. She would read fiction most nights before bed, took walks when she felt restless. She was more able to be with herself, by herself. She started her days early, going to the gym by 6:00, meeting Raven for coffee afterward most days, and spending time before work drawing or painting. Her tiny apartment was almost wall to wall with books and canvas. She spent an entire Saturday cataloguing every volume she owned, and it was one of the best days she’d had in recent memory. She was anchored by her mother and Marcus, by Raven and Roan, and Bellamy…she wished she could talk to him more, but he was obviously busy, not to mention across the county, so she maintained her emotional distance, and idly thought how nice it would be if he would visit more often. 

It was around the holidays when things became more difficult, like always. Her grief over her father had been renewed and compounded since Lexa passed, and winter had been almost unbearable last year. Raven, of course, had a plan to combat the loneliness she knew was stalking Clarke’s inner life. She invited Lincoln and Octavia over with some of the staff from Roan’s for a party the week before New Year’s. Wells was in town for a few days before heading back to his new firm in Chicago. Bellamy came too. He was visiting Octavia and had just completed his dissertation, according to his proud younger sister.

“Seriously, Bell, if I were you I’d never shut up about it,” she exclaimed, firelight dancing on her face while Lincoln wrapped his arms round her waist from behind.

“You should be proud, Bellamy. You’ve worked really hard to get where you are, just because no one is ever going to read your thoughts on Virgil doesn’t mean they matter any less,” Raven teased, stoking the fire. 

Bellamy laughed loudly and they bantered back and forth for a minute, until Wells called Raven into the kitchen to help with the keg. Bellamy walked round to the other side of the porch sit down by Clarke, who was holding her half empty cup loosely by the rim and staring into the fire pit. 

“Hey, princess.”

“Hey, Bell,” her eyes met his, and she offered him a seat next to her.

Once seated, he silently rummaged in his jacket pocket for a moment, then extended his hand. She saw a small parcel, wrapped in newsprint. She took it silently and unwrapped it. It was a heavy fountain pen with a rubber grip, presented in a slim gift box. 

“Raven said you’ve been drawing again. Lincoln swears by this one, but if you want I have the gift receipt—“ his eyes searched her face and when he realized there were tears springing to her eyes.

“No, it’s ok…thank you. I just wasn’t expecting to see you. It’s really sweet, thank you. Really.”

He hesitated for a split second and then edged closer, leaning forward, smiling gently.

“Sure, I have my moments.”

She rested her head against his arm and it took every bit of self restraint he had not to turn and kiss her hair. They stayed like that for nearly an hour, hardly speaking, until the fire burned low and they grew cold. 

—

Lincoln stopped by the bar one night in April to talk to Clarke. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you’d consider doing me a favor…well, sort of.”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“My gallery manager just quit on me and I was hoping you’d consider taking over, short team at least,” His face was earnest, and he grinned as he continued, “You come highly recommended by my wife.”

Clarke hesitated, a smile dawning over her face as she considered.

“And I’d pay you, of course! I can give you the details if you’re interested.”

“I’m interested. I’d have to work fewer shifts here, I guess—“ she glanced at Roan, who was next to her checking the bar inventory. He shrugged, rubbing the back of his hand over his bearded jawline.

“I didn't think this was going to be a career path for you, anyway. I can get Jasper to cover your shifts starting whenever, he's been pestering me for more hours.”

“Ok, I’ll think about it, Lincoln, and let you know?”

“Great.” Lincoln grinned and started to jot a few notes down on a piece of paper. “Think it over and then give me a call.” 

—

Clarke didn't take much time to think it over. She called Lincoln back the next morning, and started at the gallery on the following Wednesday. She found herself enjoying the work very much. Lincoln spent most of his time working with the kids who were signed up for the current programs, so Clarke was free to work one finding new potential artists and rearranging the gallery layout for each new show. Lincoln was an enjoyable work partner-- normally a very steady and measured person, but the kids brought out a fun, bombastic side to him. He was a natural with them. After a few weeks, he let it slip to Clarke that Octavia was pregnant, and Clarke assured him they'd be perfect parents. 

Clarke texted Octavia her congratulations that night, and was surprised that Bellamy texted her before Octavia did. 

 _Bellamy_ : Hey, how are you?

 _Clarke_ : I’m good. I’ve been working with Lincoln at the gallery, nothing much else is new. Congrats on being an uncle, by the way!

She saw him texting back, then was surprised when instead he called. She hesitated, then picked up.

“Hey.”

“Hey, thanks.” He paused. It was good to hear his voice. “Actually, I have some news too.” Another pause. “I’ve accepted a position at Arcadia University. I applied as soon as O told me she was pregnant. I’m ready for something different and it seems like the timing is right.”

“Wow, Bellamy. That’s great. So…you’re moving back, then?”

“Yup. Seems to be the thing to do.”

She smiled at the callback. “Well, I’ll be happy to have you around.” She continued quickly, “So will Raven…and I’m sure Octavia’s over the moon.”

“She is, yeah.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I was wondering if you’d like to get a drink next week. I’m in town to meet with my new department and I figured I’d have to make plans with you in advance, I know you’re busy—“

“Sure, I’d love to. Just text me the dates, and I’ll let you know. I’m pretty flexible with the gallery.”

“Great.” He seemed relieved, and she feels a familiar but long dormant ache. “I’ll text you.”

“I’ve got to run, I’m meeting Raven for lunch.”

“Good…that’s great. Bye, Clarke.” 

“See you next week.”

Clarke didn’t even have a chance to tell Raven about the call when she met her at the cafe. Raven was on her lunch break, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, her perfectly tailored blazer cast aside over the back of her chair and her hair pulled into a high bun. She greeted Clarke with the news that Clarke herself was about to share.

“So Blake’s moving back? How great is that!” 

“Holy shit, did he already call you?”

“He told me when he was applying. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but I told him he was a shoe in and put in a good word for him of course. It’ll be nice to have an interdepartmental ally.” Raven glanced at Clarke’s face, taking another bite of her lunch. “Did you two talk?”

“He called me earlier to tell me…we’re getting a drink next week, I think. You know he applied because Octavia’s pregnant?”

“No, he didn’t mention that. That’s kinda crazy, isn’t it? Younger than us and she’s already married and knocked up.”

“It is a little weird. I feel like a late bloomer, suddenly.” Raven looked up, worried, but Clarke had said it more out of humor than chagrin. “You know I’m not used to feeling that way.”

Raven grinned. “Whatever. Marriage is for chumps.”

“You really don’t think you and Roan would ever get married?” Clarke asked, curiously.

Raven shrugged. “I don’t know. I can see the tax benefits being nice, I guess.”

“You are so unromantic!”

“Says the girl who refused to ever watch the Notebook.”

Clarke chuckled. “I stand by that. But seriously, Rae…you’re happy, right?”

“I am. I am happy. I’m at the top of my field, I live with an amazing man who loves me, and with whom I am also completely in love, and I have my best friend back. What more could a woman need?”

 _Nothing,_ Clarke thought. _Absolutely nothing._

“Anyway, how are things going at the gallery? You liking the work?”

“I do…I was thinking about asking Lincoln for a permanent position. I think that he needs to be able to focus more on developing the education programs, and let someone else head up fundraising and growth. I happen to know a lot of the people who can afford to help us out. Plus, he’s going to be a little busier soon what with the kid and all.”

Raven raised her eyebrows. “So you’re not going back to IRM?”

Clarke laughed, “Trying to get rid of me, Rae?”

“Not a chance.” Raven’s smile lit up her entire face. “I just didn’t think you’d stick around much longer, honestly. You’re back on your feet, and you have a million directions you could go—I thought you might want to go save the world again.”

“Nah, I think I’ll start small this time. It doesn’t get much smaller than Walden, does it?”

Raven wanted to ask if a certain curly haired academic had factored into her friend’s decision at all, but she bit her tongue. For Raven Sinclair, that was quite a feat, but she had a feeling that the relationship between Clarke and Bellamy was in a delicate state and if it was going to bloom into something more, she would have to let things take their course naturally. She, of course, wasn’t wrong.   

— 

Clarke met Bellamy for happy hour the following Tuesday. He seemed happy, at ease, his old confident self. 

“How’d the meeting go?”

“Fine. Everyone seems alright…well, honestly I’m not sure about my TA but time will tell.”

“You’re going to be teaching grad students mostly?”

“Yeah, its pretty strange actually.” He laughed and pushed his hair back from his forehead. “It’s doesn’t seem that long since I was in their shoes.”

Clarke smiled. “You’re passing for an old professor very well, then.” 

He laughed, and took a sip of his beer. She felt the need to touch him, and reached out to his temple. “You should let your hair grow back a little. I like the salt and pepper look.”

“Hey! I’m barely older than you, ya know.”

“Yeah and look at me. Fully in my quarter life crisis. Dead ex, abandoned career, tiny studio apartment.”

His eyes darkened momentarily but he quickly recovered. “C’mon, Raven said the apartment’s not that small.”

“Raven can get back to me after she tries to have an overnight guest in the space.” She regretted saying it immediately, but he seemed relieved. 

“Dating again? That's great, Clarke.”

“Yeah…it is good. Nothing too serious, but…how about you? You didn’t bring a girlfriend back with you from New York?”

“Nah, I’ve been pretty busy with work. Miller’s threatening to take me out on the town, but he’s practically an old married man at this point, so I think its an idle threat.”

They talk of old friends, and somehow find themselves baring their souls about past relationships, covering the ground of several years conversation in one afternoon. Clarke learned that he had seriously dated one woman, Gina, who was on the English faculty at his school. It had ended abruptly and he hadn’t dated anyone since. They came round to talking about Lexa eventually, and Clarke was grateful to be able to open up to him about the reality of their relationship. She had truly loved Lexa, but even now, processing her loss, she was unsure if they would have stayed together. 

“I think, we wanted very different things, in the end. She wanted to pursue politics and I was never certain I could be happy living in DC. I don’t really know what I want, still, I guess. I need some time to figure it out.”

Bellamy had been silent for several minutes, eyes jumping from his coffee cup to her face and back, trying to find the words. 

“You were in love with her, though. That’s something you don’t just move on from, Clarke.”

“Were you in love with Gina?” She was compelled to ask the question despite herself.

“I thought so. I think so…you think we get more than one soulmate?” It was a foolish question, but he didn't regret asking.

Clarke laughed, a little derisively. “Sure, maybe. But I think most people would be lucky to find just one.”

Bellamy frowned. 

—

It was a week after Bellamy moved back to Walden that he started looking at homes for sale. Octavia was surprised he was making this move so permanent at first, but she couldn’t have been happier to have her brother back. She accompanied him whenever he met with his realtor, teasing him obliquely about the reason he was suddenly so concerned about having a three bedroom. He wasn’t sure if she knew, but played dumb as usual when it came to her taunts. 

Most of the homes available in Walden that summer were a bit out of his price range—he was only an associate professor, after all—but he kept looking for a diamond in the rough. One day, he found it. It was a 1930’s farmhouse set on a half acre. The inside hadn’t been renovated in years, but it had been well maintained. The yard surrounding the house, on the other hand, was in complete disarray. Dead trees, overgrown shrubbery, and a patch of dry earth where there had clearly used to be a garden. Bellamy found his hands itching to get to work the moment he laid eyes on the place, and he put an offer in that very day. 

 —

“Clarke, why haven’t you and Blake ever tried actually dating?” asked Raven abruptly one Friday night, two glasses of wine in. Clarke was a bit taken aback. She had heard variations of this before…but not in years. It reminded her of the first night she and Raven got drunk together, when Raven admitted she’d hooked up with Bellamy at a party right after she found out Finn had been cheating on her.

_“I’m so sorry!” She was practically sobbing. “I didn’t realize he was there to visit you, and I was so pissed at Finn—If I had known…I would never want to ruin our friendship—“_

_“Raven, you’re being ridiculous….we’re friends, but that’s it—besides, I should be apologizing to you!”_

The night had ended with the two girls passing out in Clarke’s bed, arms wrapped around each other. Clarke was more grateful for Raven’s friendship than nearly anything else at that point in her life, and she still felt that way. It doesn't keep her from being annoyed at Raven's persistence though.

“I don't know,” she said finally, trying and failing to give an honest answer.

“I mean, I know the timing was never great, and we've all dealt with a lot of shit over the years, but don’t you think it would maybe be worth a shot?”

Clarke had to admit she had considered it. After being with Niylah, she was able to consider entering into another relationship. But with Bellamy?

“You’ve always been different with him. More open, less guarded.” 

“I still don't know if I’m ready for something serious—“ Clarke stopped herself, but not before Raven turned to face her, shutting the tv off, her face impossible to read.

“What? It would have to be serious, Rae…we’ve been friends for ever, and I wouldn’t want to lose him because we decided to make a dumb mistake one night.”

“It’s not that—it’s just.” she paused, “That’s exactly what he said when I asked him the same thing, that’s all. It’s ok, we don’t have to talk about it any more right now, if you don't want to.” She studied Clarke’s face for a minute, but Clarke remained silent. Raven turned away and switched the tv back on. 

Clarke didn’t know if she was more appalled or annoyed at this revelation. Either way, she didn’t absorb a word for the rest of the evening. She fell asleep on the couch after Roan came home and carried Raven upstairs. 

—

Clarke was out for a run one day when she realized one of the homes for sale on her route had been sold. She had always thought the house was kind of sweet, if impossible to maintain, so she paused to see if she could tell who the new owner was. She saw someone standing on the porch—faded red t-shirt, broad shoulders, cropped curling hair mussed in the heat…

“Bellamy?” She jogged up, not sure what he was doing there.

“Hey, Clarke.” He looked a little sheepish. 

“Did you…buy this house?”

“Yeah, I got a pretty good deal, actually.” 

“Wow, somebody’s got their life together. So you’re seriously serious about this whole uncle thing.”

Bellamy grinned. “Yeah, that was a factor. I’ve always wanted a yard I could work on, though. We never had one as kids.”

Clarke remembered suddenly how he had helped her mom out with their home after Jake’s death. She surveyed the expanse of the property. “Well…you’ve certainly got your work cut out for you here.”

“I guess so.” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the railing, looking out over the yard.

“Careful,” Clarke warned, smirking. “That railing looks like it could give out at any second.”

Bellamy laughed loudly. “I’ll take your advice on most things, Clarke Griffin, but not home improvement or Greek mythology. Those are my areas.”

“Fair enough.” Clarke peeked past him and through the open door. “Can I see inside?”

Bellamy seemed a little taken off guard, but quickly recovered. “Sure. It’s kind of a mess, still…so manage your expectations.”

“I always do.” She blew past him with an easy confidence of belonging, and it made his heart twinge. 

There were wood floors throughout, rather scratched but otherwise in good shape. The kitchen apparently hadn’t been touched since the 50s and Clarke actually found it kind of charming. Through the kitchen, she could view the dining room, separated from the living room by an open archway. To the other side, a slightly open door.

“What’s through here?” She asked, as she opened it. She found herself in a beautiful, light filled room the walls of which were completely covered in bookshelves. The bookshelves, it should be noted, were also full of books, neatly lined from one end to the other.

“You obviously haven’t used your kitchen yet once, but you’ve already got your library fully in order?” she laughed.

Bellamy smiled. “What did you expect?”

“Fair enough. Ok, let’s see upstairs.” 

He raised his eyebrows, but silently followed her back through the entryway and up the staircase. There were three bedrooms and a bathroom. Two of the bedrooms were smaller, and they were empty. Clarke wondered what his plans were for those spaces but kept from asking. 

She walked into the master bedroom and immediately loved it. There was light coming from both the south and the east. He had only a mattress, a bedside table, and one dresser. The mattress was directly on the floor, and the bed was unmade, the grey cotton sheets unfurled to reveal the imprint his body had left that morning. The bedside table held several dogeared books, a laptop, and an alarm clock. The corner of Clarke's mouth turned up despite herself. It was so very Bellamy. 

Bellamy watched her taking it all in, the hazy morning light combining with the stray curls round her face to form a halo of sorts. She turned back to face him, suddenly looking a little embarrassed. 

“I’m didn’t mean to totally invade your space, I'm sorry…”

“Clarke.” His voice seemed gently reproachful. “You know I want you here, right?”

Clarke had no idea how to respond.

“Come on,” Bellamy tipped his head back to indicate towards the stairs. “You can critique my kitchen organization plan, you know you’re dying to.”

Clarke grinned, and followed him downstairs.


	4. Questions

Bellamy found himself settling into a pleasant routine once classes started up in the fall. His course offerings were rather light, given that it was his first year on staff, but he found his students engaging and bright for the most part. His TA, a surly graduate student named John Murphy, was a little difficult to work with at first, but after hearing a few of Bellamy’s lectures he acknowledged his boss with a grudging respect, and Bellamy was more amused than annoyed by him. 

When he wasn’t preparing his lecture notes, Bellamy worked outside in his yard. He began to spend early mornings with his hands in the earth, plotting where he was going to plant seedlings next spring. He was making good progress with his garden one Saturday morning when he was taken off guard by Marcus’ station wagon suddenly pulling into his driveway. Ian and Paige hopped out and quickly made their way over to him as Bellamy remembered that Abby was out of town at a conference and Marcus had asked him to watch the kids for the afternoon while he went into work for a few hours. 

“Sorry, Marcus, I got caught up and forgot what we had planned.” He stood and wiped a dirty garden glove over his forehead and grinned sheepishly. 

Marcus’ eyes twinkled in response. “Looks like you’ve got plenty to keep you busy here. Good thing I taught you everything I know.”

Bellamy laughed and invited them indoors. The kids quickly settled in the library, and promised to behave as long as Bellamy joined them soon.

“Sorry, I don’t have much furniture downstairs yet,” Bellamy apologized, offering one of the mismatched kitchen chairs to Marcus. “You have time for a cup of coffee?”

“I don’t think so,” Marcus checked his watch, then made a point of taking in his surroundings. “It’s a nice house, Bellamy. You enjoying being back in Walden?”

“Yeah, the job’s great so far. Plus it’s nice to be back among old friends. I missed the kids, too. They’ve grown up a lot. I didn't want to miss out on O’s kid too.” He was very careful not to mention Clarke by name in all of this. Marcus had always been able to read him like a book. 

“I think you made a good choice, Bellamy. Octavia and her family are very lucky to have you. And have you seen much of Clarke since you’ve been back? I noticed you seemed pretty close at the wedding.”

“Sure, we’ve seen each other a few times since.”

“I know she’s happy to have you back in her life, Bellamy. It’s been a rough couple of years.”

“I know,” Bellamy replied in a low voice, “I wish—“

They were interrupted by a small voice coming from the other room. “Bel-la-my! Come play with us! Dad, let Bellamy play with us, _please_!”

Marcus grinned, “That’s my cue. Thanks again, son.”

“No problem, Marcus.”

“Don’t let them manipulate you too badly.” Marcus called over his shoulder as he headed for the door. 

When he returned several hours later, he found Bellamy laying, exhausted but smiling, on the floor, with his two children building a fort out of books around him. Marcus couldn’t keep from chuckling. It was pretty much what he had expected. 

—

Bellamy’s favorite class to teach was a small seminar on Greek mythology. He was meeting with a few students from that section in his office one day when Clarke stopped by. She quietly took in the scene before her, Bellamy sitting on the edge of his desk waxing poetic about Orpheus and the power of love and loss, while three college students hung on his every word. Bellamy, when he saw her, grinned widely and quickly finished his thought. 

One of the students was Harper, the receptionist at Indra’s gym, who waved as she headed to her next class.

The other two were a tall, dark haired young man named Monty, who politely introduced himself, and Jasper, the barback from Roan’s. 

“Hey, Clarke!” Jasper smiled mischievously, as if he knew something he shouldn’t, and glanced between her and Bellamy, “I didn't know you knew Professor Blake.” 

Bellamy raised an eyebrow and waved his hand at the two young men, “Alright, office hours are over. See you Monday.”

Monty nodded at both of them and led the way out of Bellamy’s office, his shoulders hunched under the weight of his book bag. Jasper lingered for a second longer, joking with Bellamy about connotative meaning, and then ran after Monty down the hallway. 

“You used to work with Jasper, huh?” Bellamy asked, gesturing for her to take a seat in his office. “I imagine he could only be worse around alcohol. Anyway, what’s up?” His face held a curious but pleased expression. 

“I was just here for office hours.” 

“Very funny. Seriously?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to see you in your element. How are classes going so far?”

“Great.” Bellamy took a seat behind his desk and started to loosen his tie and roll up his sleeves. “Students are pretty responsive so far. Coursework is coming along fine. My department likes me. The coffee is terrible, but you can’t win ‘em all.”

Clarke chuckled. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

Bellamy smiled back at her, eyes thoughtful behind his glasses. He looked up suddenly when a familiar petite brunette appeared in the hallway, accompanied by a woman Clarke didn’t recognize. 

“Hey, Raven! Hey, Emori—“

“Clarke, I didn’t know you were around today.”

“Yeah, I just thought I’d stop by…your office was my next stop,” Clarke answered lamely, glancing at Bellamy. He had looked down at his desk, but she could see a slight smirk on his face.

“Well, we’re heading over to the faculty meeting actually—this is my assistant, Emori, by the way…you coming, Blake?” Raven gave Clarke’s shoulder a quick squeeze and then she and her companion were gone. 

“Sorry, bad timing—“

Bellamy sighed good naturally, “Isn’t it always…”

“I didn’t know you had a meeting, sorry, I should have checked with you before I stopped by.” She stood up hurriedly.

“Clarke, it’s fine.” His voice sounded a little gruff, but his eyes meant it. “I wish I didn’t have to be there, but I’ll be done pretty soon. What are you doing tonight? I’m going over to Octavia’s for dinner, you wanna join?”

Clarke hesitated. “Sure.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at 6:30.”

“I know where they live, but you don’t know where I live, so wouldn’t it make more sense if—“

“Text me your address. Problem solved. See you at 6:30. Now, shoo.” She rolled her eyes and smiled, and he waited for her to exit the office, then locked his door. He ran into John Murphy on the way out. 

“That blonde chick that just walked out of here—you know her? Is she single?”

Bellamy just rolled his eyes and continued on his way.

—

He found Clarke waiting outside her apartment at 6:15. She was wearing a lacy short sleeved cream top and a pair of black slacks. Her hair framed her face loosely and her eyes caught the sun as she greeted him. 

“You’re early,” she said, somewhat accusatorially, heading over to the passenger door of his old Camry.

“I think I deserve a little more credit for knowing you as well as I do.” He lifted the bouquet of flowers in the passenger seat so she could get in, and she held them in her lap with the bottle of wine she had brought. 

“Is it weird to take wine to a pregnant person’s house, you think?”

“I’m hardly an authority on pregnant people but I’m definitely one on Octavia and I can assure you that she won’t give a shit.”

Clarke laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Octavia greeted them at the door with a huge smile. “Clarke! I’m so glad you could come. Oh, thanks, those are beautiful, Bell!” She accepted the gifts and led them back into the kitchen where Lincoln was making dinner. 

“Hey, smells good!” Clarke greeted Lincoln warmly.

“Hey, Clarke! Thanks for joining us so last minute.”

“What were you two up to today?” the question was innocent enough, but Clarke felt Octavia’s eyes on her. 

“I had a few classes, and met with the students from my seminar.” Bellamy answered swiftly. “What were you up to Clarke?” She could swear he had a twinkle in his eye.

“I just did some reading and ran a few errands.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. 

Octavia raised her eyebrows, looking with amusement between the two of them. She was about seven months pregnant, and as she crossed her arms over her stomach it just made it appear larger. Clarke thought she looked beautiful but more terrifying then usual. 

“Babe, will you taste this?” Lincoln called from the stove, and Octavia joined him. Bellamy handed Clarke a glass of the wine she had brought before she realized she needed one. She loved Octavia, but subtlety had never been a virtue she possessed. 

“So, Bell, how’s the house?” Octavia asked, somewhat pointedly, when they had all sat down at the table. 

“Fine, great actually.” 

“It’s a fantastic house.” Lincoln agreed, “I’m sure when you’re done with it it’ll be worth half again as much as you paid for it.”

Bellamy laughed, “I don’t know about that, but I’m sure I’ll have projects to keep me busy for years.”

“Clarke, Lincoln tells me you might be interested in coming on to the gallery full time,” Octavia changed the subject abruptly. “You’re planning on staying in town for a while longer, then?”

“Yeah, I think so…I have some ideas to grow the business side of things…plus I assume Lincoln will need me around a little more in a few months.”

“Yeah, I think we’ll be able to settle on an arrangement that works out for both of us,” Lincoln said warmly. “I probably haven’t thanked you enough, Clarke, for how much you’ve done already. We’ve had an actual income lately. You really are good at it.”

“Course she it,” said Bellamy proudly, in a way that made Clarke blush, and Octavia roll her eyes good naturally. 

The topic turned to the baby.

“Do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl yet?” asked Clarke.

“We’re keeping it a surprise,” said Lincoln, grinning at his wife.

“Lincoln bet me that I wouldn’t be able to last the entire pregnancy without finding out, and of course I couldn't give in.” Octavia wrinkled her nose across the table at her husband.

“It’s a girl,” Bellamy said definitively. 

“What? How could you possibly know?” asked Clarke. 

Bellamy shrugged at her. “Men’s intuition.” It was something he had said a million times, but it always made her laugh.

After dinner, Octavia pulled Clarke upstairs to see the nursery. It was freshly painted a shade of light sage green, and apart from a few boxes in the corner looked pretty ready for the arrival of its occupant.

“Wow, you guys are ready.”

“Ready as you can be, I guess.” Octavia paused, considering her words for once before asking, “Clarke, can I be honest with you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you feel anything for my brother? I mean, I know you guys were friends forever ago, but…I just don’t want to see him get hurt. He hasn’t had it easy either, you know. I’m sure things are tough right now, but please, if you don’t feel anything back for him, just tell him before he gets himself in deeper. You have to know he didn’t move back here just for me.” Octavia’s bright green eyes searched Clarke’s face for understanding.

“I know, Octavia.”

“Ok,” her inquisitor relaxed, exhaling a deep sigh and taking a seat in the rocking chair by the window. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say any of that, but he’s my big brother. I’ve got to look out for him occasionally when I can. I owe him. Plus, if it were up to me, you guys would have gotten together years ago, but clearly, it’s not up to me.”

Clarke chuckled. “Man, you and Raven ought to get together.” She turned to the dresser and saw a stack of tiny onesies. They were mostly gender neutral, except for one that was embroidered with “World’s Best Niece” on the front in bright pink. She cracked a smile and held it up for Octavia.

“Was this—“

“From Bell?” Octavia grinned. “Yeah, he’s a real piece of work. He’s gonna be a great uncle though.”

“My ears were burning,” Bellamy appeared in the door, “Dessert’s ready, ladies.” Octavia pulled herself out of the rocking chair and walked over to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Love you.”

“You too, sis.” He waited for her to walk downstairs before turning to Clarke. “Hey, I don’t know what Octavia said exactly, but according to Lincoln she may have just given you an earful, and I just wanted to say—“

“It’s ok, Bell. She’s right.”

“About?” He arched an eyebrow cheekily so as not to belie his nervousness. 

“She just cares about you, that’s all. She wants to make sure I do, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. How about that dessert?”

—

After their guests had left, Lincoln confronted his wife gently. 

“You didn’t scare Clarke off, did you?”

“Hardly. Clarke’s a big girl, she can handle it. I just needed to say my piece. You understand.”

Lincoln wrapped his muscular arms around his wife. “I understand. I love you, Octavia.”

“Mhmm,” she turned and winked at him, “You’re gonna have to prove it, tonight.”

—

Eight years ago, on the porch of Clarke’s childhood home, she had finally been able to talk about her father since his death, if only to Bellamy. He had opened up in return, telling her how worried he had been for Octavia after their mother's death, and how that had prevented it from sinking in for him for some time.

_“She seemed so angry, so volatile, I didn’t know what to do or say.”_

_“You were grieving, too.” She met his eyes with an understanding, an understanding he always found in her gaze._

_“It was hard to, when I felt so conscious of how much she needed me all at once.”_

_Her gaze dropped. “At least you had each other.”_

_He took her hand from where it lay next to his._

_“You have me too. You have your mom, Wells, Raven, and O…but you know you have me, right?”_

_Tears stung her eyes as she looked at him, and she saw his eyes glisten back at her._

_“Yeah. I know.”_

_“Clarke—“ his voice caught in his throat._

_“No.” She had stopped him abruptly, staring fiercely at his face with the tears trickling down her own. “Please, let me just try and get through this in one piece, ok?”_

_His face contorted as he held back the words she couldn’t hear._

Clarke was replaying this scene over and over in her head as Bellamy drove her home that night. Bellamy didn’t say anything on the ride back to her apartment, but when he parked finally asked,

“You ok?”

Clarke considered her answer for a moment. “I don’t really want to be alone tonight. And I don’t want to call Niylah, so….can I come home with you?” 

If he was surprised, he did a great job not showing it.

“Ok. You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Bellamy put the car in drive and slowly pulled into the street again. They were silent the entire fifteen minute ride to his house. Clarke’s heart was beating so fast she thought there was no way Bellamy wouldn’t hear it. Stealing a quick glance at her driver, she saw his mouth tighten and relax a few times in the space of a moment. 

Clarke was the first to unbuckle her seat belt when they arrived and Bellamy bolted out of the car so as to open her door before she could. She laughed shakily as he took her hand.

“Bellamy…what are we doing?”

“That’s somewhat up to you, right now. This was your idea.”

Clarke took deep breath, “I just want to sleep, tonight. That’s all.”

“Ok.” His eyes twinkled. “C’mon.” 

He unlocked the door and she saw immediately how much work he had put into the house since she had last been there. The entire place, though it was still mostly unfurnished, had been painted a unifying cool grey, and the wood floors had been cleaned and polished. 

“You need a drink? Anything?”

“No, let’s just go to bed.”

“Alright,” he hesitated, “I’d offer to sleep on the couch, but I don’t have one yet, so…” He smirked despite himself, then, seeing her face, pulled her a little closer. She looked up with eyes full of tears, and he pulled her fully into a warm embrace.

“I just want you to hold me tonight,” she breathed gently, “Is that ok?”

“Sure.” He kissed her fingers gently and slowly led her upstairs to the master. “Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to his bed, and left the room, calling back “I’m going to go take a shower before I get us both in trouble.”

Clarke laughed, and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment. Then she hopped up and rummaged through his dresser for a t shirt and pair of athletic shorts, pulling in the waistband so they stayed on her hips. Changing quickly, she left her own clothes neatly folded on top of the dresser and snuggled into bed. Bellamy’s bed.

The bed smelled like him—a rich, slightly musky aroma. She closed her eyes. He entered the room a few minutes later, but she didn't move, and didn’t open her eyes. She heard him tiptoe over to the bedside table and set his glasses down, then felt the weight of him as he sat down on the edge of the bed and gently rolled over until he was almost spooning her. He tentatively put one hand on her shoulder, and she grabbed his fingers and pulled his arm over her. He slipped his other arm under her until she was cradled perfectly in the shape of him. She sighed as she felt his nose gently rub her the back of her head, his breath on her neck.


	5. Answers

When Clarke woke up the next morning, she was lying in bed alone, but she heard someone rustling about downstairs and smelled coffee brewing. She hastily dressed in her clothes from last night and headed downstairs. 

Bellamy’s tousled head was bent over the newspaper, and when he raised his face to hers he was grinning ear to ear. 

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” he handed her a cup of coffee and she almost said she loved him in jest but thankfully thought better of it.

“I slept great.”

“At least one of us did,” his tone was playfully antagonistic.

“I’m sorry. Did I toss and turn all night?”

“No, you slept like a rock. I just recovered feeling in my right arm,” he stood up to get himself another cup of coffee, and his jaw clenched slightly. He was wearing a faded blue t-shirt and a pair of threadbare pajama pants. “It was pretty difficult to just lay there next to you last night, Clarke, if you get my drift.”

Clarke blushed and took a sip of her coffee. “I’m sorry, I know we need to talk about this…”

“Yeah, we do.” Bellamy watched her face for a moment, then turned to the fridge. “You like your eggs scrambled?”

“Sounds great.” 

“Good, because that’s the only way I can cook them.”

Clarke watched him as he set a carton of eggs on the counter and heated a pan over the gas burner. She chewed on her lower lip as he cracked several eggs and began to agitate them with a fork, the metal utensil clinking agains the side of a ceramic bowl. 

She stood up, suddenly, and took two steps closer to him. He turned at the sound of her bare feet on the tile. His eyebrows raised, he set the bowl down slowly and rested the palms of his hands on the counter behind him, elbows at an angle, squaring his shoulders to her. She took another step closer. 

“You’re letting your hair grow out.” She realized it as she spoke, her fingers reaching to twine through the curls at his temple.

“A little.” A smile teased at his mouth and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. 

He did. 

Stooping down slightly, his right hand gently resting on her cheek and his left hand hovering at her hip, he pressed his slightly open lips to her own. She froze, her hands clutching at his chest as if he were in danger of vanishing at any moment.

He pulled back slightly after a moment, his right hand drifting to her the loose waves on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, but he didn’t look it. 

Clarke surveyed him with an astonishing level of calm, though her heart was pounding faster than she thought possible. “Well on one hand, I did invite myself into your bed last night. On the other hand, I’ve never seen anyone make scrambled eggs this way.”

He chuckled slightly, then grew serious again, his eyes searched her own for an answer to the question he hadn’t put into words. “Clarke—.” He murmured her name as if it were an incantation, closing his eyes slightly and folding one of his hands over the place hers clutched him. 

“Bellamy, I—“ her voice broke suddenly and she couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“Clarke, you don’t owe me anything. I just don't want to mess this up…”

“I don’t want to mess this up either.” she whispered the words into his shoulder, turning away from his face. 

“Clarke. You won’t.” His own voice trembled as his strong arms enveloped her and she wrapped her arms round his waist, exhaling more than breath. “We can take this as slow as you want,” he murmured into her hair. 

She relaxed in his arms.

—

Clarke walked quickly down Bellamy’s driveway, and pulled her phone out of her pocket. 9% battery. She took a deep breath and pulled up her most recent calls. _Raven Sinclair._ She hit call before she had time to talk herself out of it.

“Hey, Clarke, what’s up?” 

“Are you home?”

“Yeah, I don’t have anything scheduled until this afternoon—“

“Good, ok. I'm coming over.”

She hung up before she heard Raven’s reply. The door was unlocked when she arrived twenty minutes later, sticky with sweat from her brisk pace. Raven was seated on the couch in the main room, cup of coffee in hand and Shasta asleep in her lap. She looked up, concerned, when Clarke entered.

“Hey, you look weird.”

“Yeah, thanks Raven.”

“No, seriously…are you sick? Did something happen? What’s going on?” She shifted her position on the couch and Shasta jumped off her lap.

“Ok, um—I slept over at Bellamy’s last night. Before you say anything—I mean, literally just slept. There was nothing else. Nothing. Except, we did kiss. This morning. But that’s it.”

Raven’s face was inscrutable for about two seconds, then she blurted out, nearly spilling her coffee, “Clarke, _WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK_?”

Clarke’s eyes grew wide, and then suddenly she felt herself completely overcome. She began to laugh, and she laughed so hard she began crying and had to sit down. Roan suddenly entered the room with a worried look on his face, but Raven shook her head at him and he quickly made himself scarce, taking Shasta with him. Clarke barely noticed, her shoulders still shaking with hysterical laughter. 

“What the _hell_ is going on with you two?” Raven continued, “Are you together or not?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke moaned, wiping away her tears. “I mean, I know he would have me in a second if I wanted him, but I don’t know if that is what I want.”

“Yeah, because platonic best friends share beds and make out all the time,” Raven rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to give you this speech again, Clarke. You deserve to be happy. So just give it a shot.”

“I don’t want to fuck up his entire life, Rae! You know how much he means to me.”

“You know how much you mean to him, too,” Raven reminded her. “He’s not going to just move on unless you let him. I’m pretty fucking sure he’s been burning a torch for you for years now, so you either have to go for it or let him go.”

“Why are you always right?”

Raven shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.” She paused and studied Clarke’s face carefully before continuing. “Clarke, how many times have you told me that I’m amazing, that I deserve better, that everything was going to work out if I applied myself and focused on my goals?”

“Probably—“

“A million times, yeah. I’m just trying to repay the favor. You really are your own worst enemy, Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke groaned and put her head in her hands. “Ok, ok. You’re right. I have to figure this out.” 

“Well, how did you leave things? After you _kissed?_ ”

“He said we could take it as slow as I needed,” Clarke sighed. “I told him we could talk tonight…Part of me wanted to fuck him right then and there. And another part of me wanted to run—which, I guess is sort of what I did. Apparently I’m good at that.” Her   tone, though not without humor, was rueful. 

Raven moved closer to her on the couch. “I just want you to be happy, babe. Bellamy too, obviously…but mostly _you_ , Clarke. Problem is, you’re the only one who really knows what’s you actually want.”

“Is life always this complicated? I thought that moving back here would simplify things, but I seem to have fucked that up too.”

“Clarke, when has anything with you ever been simple? We wouldn’t even have met if you were just a tiny bit normal. I mean, what kind of girl tracks down her ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend to apologize for being the other woman? You’ve never made things easy for yourself.”

Clarke laughed and leaned her head on Raven’s shoulder. “I guess I’ve always been a disaster in one way or another…I was just better at hiding it back then.”

“Like you said, I’m always right. So listen to me.”

“Ok.” Clarke took a deep breath and stood up. “I’ve got to be at the gallery at 11:00.”

“You gonna be ok?”

“Peachy.”

“Call me later.”

Clarke ran into Roan and Shasta on her way home. 

“It’s safe to reenter your home,” she relayed, sheepishly. “Sorry if I woke you up or anything.” She bent down to rub Shasta’s head apologetically.

Roan squinted and summed her up. “Everything ok?”

Clarke laughed, again. She couldn’t seem to stop laughing today. “Yeah, it will be. Just a minor mental breakdown. Nothing Raven couldn’t talk me through.”

Roan chuckled. “Good. I’ll see you later, Clarke.”

Once she was home, Clarke took a slightly longer shower than normal, absent mindedly washing her hair twice before she realized her mistake. She made herself presentable for work, and arrived at 10:56, which felt like she was cutting it close. Would Lincoln notice that she was completely distracted and piece it together? 

“Calm down, Griffin.” _Great, now she was talking to herself. And talking to herself about talking to herself._ Clarke hopped out of her car and headed into the gallery, trying to snap herself out of her own head. 

Lincoln was standing near the gallery entrance, pencil behind his ear, apparently deep in thought.

“Hey, Clarke, I’ve got a puzzle for you. We need to triple our funding by next summer, I’ve got four new schools who want to participate in the main camp this year, and I hate to turn them down. What do you say.”

Clarke in that moment was just grateful to give something else to occupy her mind than Bellamy.

“Ok.” She set her bag down and considered, walking the space and waiting for inspiration to strike. “What if we hosted an auction? We could do it over the holidays, when people are feeling extra generous. I know just the types to invite…” Her mind flashed back to holiday parties at her parents house, and she began to mentally draft a guest list.

“Alright, but what will we auction? I love the kids, but I don’t think that people are willing to pay much for some of this stuff.”

“Lincoln, are you forgetting that you’re an amazingly talented painter?”

Lincoln laughed, “Yeah, yeah, ok. I guess I do have that series of oil portraits we could feature.”

“My thoughts exactly. Plus, this way we have enough time for you to produce a few more. And I have several other artists who I know would be interested. We’ll need to transform the space a bit, but that’s the easy part. I want to make sure we can optimize crowd flow, this is going to be a slightly different feel than events in the past here—”

“You think you can scrounge up some incentives from local business, too? We’ll need to decorate the place too.”

“I’ll get it covered. Whatever you have for auction by the time of the event, I’ll sell it. Guaranteed.”

“Alright, it’s a plan,” Lincoln paused. “I was thinking about our conversation last night, about your future working here. I’d like to bring you on as a full partner, if you’re interested. I think we work really well together, so I had my accountant draw up some papers and we can discuss it with him if you’re interested.”

Clarke’s face lit up, and she extended her hand to Lincoln, “I’m in.”

Lincoln grinned back. “Good, because I don’t have a plan B for when the kid comes.”

“I’ll handle it, just let me know whatever else you need. Ok, let’s talk event details,” Clarke was already creating a spreadsheet and compiling a list of names and numbers. “We need a date and time, then I can start requesting donations. I already have two bartenders and a few servers I can call, so the big items will be alcohol and food…”

They worked right through the afternoon and into early evening before they took a break. Octavia stopped by to drop off dinner after her shift ended, and Clarke at that point had to actively focus on pushing Bellamy to the back of her mind. There was still more work to be done that night.

By 8:00pm, Clarke had secured probable donations from half the local businesses. Now, she thought as she headed home, she really couldn’t avoid talking to Bellamy any longer. She was still mulling over whether she should call or text him to ask him to meet her when she arrived home and realized he was already there, waiting for her in his car.

He got out of his car when he saw her pull up. He was wearing a pair of dress pants and a somewhat wrinkled button down that Clarke would swear he’d owned since high school. The sharp line of his jaw was softened by the evening light and the beginning of a five o’clock shadow. _Fuck._ He was not going to make this easy on her.

He looked a little apologetic after he saw the distress on her face. 

“Sorry, I just thought we were planning on talking tonight…”

“Yep, that was the plan.” Clarke paused. “Sorry, I’m just distracted. Long day. Want to come up?’

“Sure, I need to see how small this apartment really is.”

Bellamy followed her up the stairs and pretended not to notice as she fumbled over her keys for a moment before finding the right one. She was mentally thanking her past self for having tidied up before going to work earlier. 

“Well, here it is. Make yourself at home. You need a drink?” 

“Sure.”

“I have water and I have whisky.”

“Whisky it is.” He glanced around the apartment before taking a seat on the only available space, her bed.

Clarke turned her back to him for a moment to grab the bottle of liquor and two coffee mugs from the cabinet. _Get it the fuck together, Clarke._

When she turned round, she realized how boyish and gangly he suddenly looked, crouched over on the edge of her twin bed. He glanced up grinning. “Found my senior yearbook…I can't believe I quoted Oppenheimer.”

Clarke laughed, setting the mugs down on her desk. “You were a huge nerd, how did you _ever_ get laid?”

“You’re one to talk, Ms Debate Team.”

“Fair point. Ok, we were both huge nerds.”

“Yeah, past tense for sure.”

He rose from the bed slowly, hesitated, and then took a step towards her. The setting was equal parts intimate and innocent. 

“I don’t think I want to do much more talking tonight,” Clarke murmured, locking eyes with him. 

“Ok…what did you have in mind?”

Clarke closed the distance between them and gently placed her hands on his hips. Bellamy’s breath was shallow, and he waited two beats before leaning down to kiss her. His mouth was soft and gentle, but she sensed the hunger in him. Clarke felt a twinge of longing in the pit of her stomach and knew she couldn't bear to wait any longer. She steered him gently towards the bed, slipping out of her skirt at the same time. His eyes were lost on hers, his hands on her hips, as she began to unbutton his shirt. He sat with his legs open and she stood between them, feeling the strength of them. She gently pushed his shoulders back until he was almost supine. He grabbed her wrists when she straddled him, looking serious.

“You sure, Clarke?”

She nodded, “I’m sure.” She kissed him again, her hands busy with undressing him, and she could feel the shape of him swelling beneath her warmth. She had gotten his shirt off, running her fingers over his chest, when he grew impatient and pulled her shirt over her head. His pupils dilated, she was amused to notice, when confronted with the generous swell of her breasts. 

“Shit, Clarke.” He fumbled with the clasp on her bra and she came to his aid. He cupped her breasts in his hands, looking into her eyes as if his heart might break from longing. It hurt her to see him looking so vulnerable, but the moment was fleeting. Next moment he had flipped her on her back so that he was standing, leaning over her. He had removed his pants and boxers, and she could see all of him. She was wet with anticipation.

He began by kissing her breasts, the swelling sides and the nipples, then traced a line down her stomach, following with his mouth. She was impatient, pulling him back to her as he continued to stroke her with one hand, the other tangled in her hair. His hands were rough but his mouth tasted so sweet. She arched her back as he fingered her, and she saw the satisfied gleam in his eye as she moaned with pleasure. 

“Condom?” she gasped. He paused, almost bashful, then knelt to recover one from his pants pocket. “Someone was prepared,” she teased, gently biting his earlobe. “One of us had to be,” he murmured back.

Her legs were wrapped around him, and the moment she felt him enter her she gasped. He was a little more eager, still gentle, as he guided her over the crest of another wave. Her hands gripped his shoulders, back, and ass, guiding him to the rhythm she needed. As she rocked her hips up and down to match his movements, he groaned. When he came with her, finally, they were both glistening with sweat from head to toe. He rested over her a moment, his throbbing subsiding before he removed himself. 

Bellamy had rolled over on his back. Clarke was resting with her head on his chest, catching her breath. They lay in silence for some time, reveling in the feel of each other’s nakedness against their own. 

“Fuck, Clarke.” Bellamy’s eyes were still wide with disbelief as she looked up at him. “Just…fuck.”

“Mmmm.” She agreed, nodded her head, weary but satisfied. Her eyes were fixed on his fingers, twined through her own. She was amazed at how different they looked all of a sudden. “I like your hands.” 

Bellamy chuckled and kissed her forehead. “By the way, we’re going to do this in my bed next time.” He gestured to the expanse of his right leg, which was hanging over the side of her twin sized bed. 

Clarke laughed. “What bed? You have a mattress, but I didn’t see a bed…”

Bellamy pulled her hair gently. “Alright, fine. We’ll go buy a bed then.”

“You need a couch too, and some real chairs for your kitchen table…and a decent kitchen table—“

He cut her off with a kiss.

—-

 

Clarke woke up at sunrise to a text from the night before.  

 _Raven:_ You never called me so I hope you had better things to do tonight…

Clarke smiled and buried her head in Bellamy’s chest, stowing her phone and making a mental note to call Raven later. Bellamy stirred, pulling her closer to him before opening his eyes. He squinted in the bright light that filtered through her linen curtains. When they locked eyes, he grinned like a teenager. 

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Clarke played with the dimple on his chin while he ran his hand up and down her back. 

“You hungry?”

“ _Starving_. I need six cups of coffee and about a dozen waffles.”

Bellamy laughed. “What time is it? Let’s go to the diner, it shouldn’t be too crowded this early.”

“Bellamy, it’s Saturday. They're always busy on Saturdays.”

Realization dawned on his face before she realized what she had implied.

“No, it’s not that! I don’t mind if people see us. I just…I’d rather be somewhere quiet this morning.” Her voice was low, she felt almost embarrassed to reveal just how much she was enjoying the intimacy of the moment. 

His eyes softened when he understood her. “Alright, I have a solution.” He gave her a quick kiss and untangled himself from her bed. 

Clarke propped herself up on her elbow as he began to get dressed. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be back before you know it.” He almost fell over as he leaned to give her another kiss while trying to pull his pants on. He turned his attention briefly to the kitchen. “You don’t have any coffee here?”

“No, I haven’t been shopping in a while—“

He was out the door the next moment, calling back to her, “I’ll meet you in the shower in twenty.”

Clarke smirked and settled herself back on her pillow. Her mind raced over the events of last night, but finally she sighed and dragged herself out of bed and to the bathroom. She turned the shower on, and stared at herself in the mirror while she waiting for the water to heat. Her hair was disheveled, her cheeks rosy, and she couldn’t stop smiling _._

Bellamy found her in the shower a few minutes later, tipping her head back and letting the water run down over her face. He couldn't keep his hands off her for long, and she didn't want him to.

Once they’d finished, Clarke curiously made her way to the kitchen to see what Bellamy had gotten on his errand. On the table she saw a brown paper box and a box of brewed coffee, one that must have held the equivalent of eight or ten cups. She broke out into laughter.

“What? You said you needed coffee.” He pulled her close and kissed her damp forehead. “I didn’t think waffles would travel very well but that cafe down the street seems to have pretty good croissants so I hope those will suffice.”

“It’s perfect.” 

“So,” Bellamy asked, after they had breakfast and were lounging back in bed. “We never really talked, did we?” His chest was bare and his arm was draped over Clarke, who was wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“No, I guess we didn’t…” Clarke straightened her shoulders as if she were preparing for a speech. “Alright, let’s talk. We’re obviously more than just friends with benefits. I want to see where this goes. Do you want to be exclusive or would you prefer not to label it?”

Bellamy stared at her in stunned silence before shaking his head. “I thought I was fairly obvious, but maybe not. Ok. We’re not teenagers, Clarke. This-“ he gestured from himself back to her. “-this is real. I want you to be with you. This means something. I want to be with you, really be with you.”

It was Clarke’s turn to be stunned. “Ok.”

“Alright.” Bellamy settled back against the pillows. 

“I kind of hate the term girlfriend, though…I’ve never liked it.”

Bellamy laughed. “Ok, what do you want me to call you? My lover? Significant other? Romantic companion?”

“God, no,” She shivered dramatically then continued in her usual matter of fact tone. “Just call me Clarke.”

Bellamy pursed his lips. “So when O asks me if you’re my girlfriend I say no, she’s just Clarke?”

“No, I’m _your_ Clarke.”

Bellamy chuckled and conceded. He figured he'd have to get used to that. 


	6. Together

Clarke began sleeping over at Bellamy’s most nights. Bellamy insisted that she take half his closet and a few dresser drawers, so she began to keep her favorite clothes there and only use her apartment when she knew Bellamy wasn’t going to be home. He gave her a key before they’d been dating two weeks.  

Clarke found herself falling for Bellamy harder than she could have anticipated. They had known each other so long, and she knew he was caring, loyal, and never as severe on others as he was on himself. In the new context of their relationship, she found herself discovering all sorts of smaller, intimate details that made her ache to think about. She loved the way he looked after working on the yard, covered in dirt and glistening with sweat. She loved the way he fell asleep any time he tried to read in bed, book in hands, with his glasses still perched his nose. She loved the way he always seemed to know right before the first alarm was about to go off and pulled her closer to him. 

Being with Bellamy was surprisingly easy. After the initial awkwardness, it felt like a natural transition in their relationship. And the sex was undeniably good. They played off each other perfectly, a little competitive and often quite intense, but never too serious to find themselves laughing with what felt like pure joy in the moment. Clarke had made Bellamy buy a bed frame the day after they first slept together, and Bellamy had to admit it dramatically improved his sex life. Clarke was quick to point out that it was actually she who was doing all the improvements, and he didn’t argue with her. 

Bellamy had started the relationship already head over heels for Clarke, or so he had thought. But his affection for her deepened daily, and it wasn’t long before he wondered how he could have ever been less in love with Clarke Griffin. He felt so secure being with her, almost as if he could see the rest of his life mapped out in front of him. They’d been together less than a month before he knew this was it for him, though he would never have admitted that at the time. 

This, of course, would not be news to any of their friends and family, but most of them did a pretty good job of keeping the self-congratulatory smugness to themselves. Most, not all.

“I hope you know I have secondary parental rights to any future offspring,” Raven said casually over coffee one morning a few weeks after they had started dating. 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever that means.”

"Just that I take partial credit for the relationship,” Raven stood up to pour herself another cup of coffee. They were sitting at her kitchen table, Shasta sleeping on the warm linoleum floor by the sliding glass door, “So, when’s the wedding?” Raven called casually over her shoulder, watching Clarke’s body language out of the corner her eye as she replaced the coffee pot. 

Clarke chuckled. “We _just_ started dating, Raven. Can you give us five minutes?”

“I know, but it’s _Bellamy_ ," Raven mimicked her friend's tone, "and you’re in pretty deep already. You’ve talked about where you’re headed, right?”

“Sure, we decided we’re dating each other and only each other.”

“Mhmmm. Well, that’s a start.”

“You know, you’re going to have to fight Octavia over this whole future kid thing. I’m pretty sure she’ll preemptively lay claim as soon as we tell her.”

Raven’s eyes widened. “You haven’t told her yet?”

“No, not officially. I mean, I’m pretty sure she and Bellamy have talked, Lincoln has been a little absent from the gallery lately with this whole baby thing. We’re having them over dinner tonight though. With my mom and Marcus.”

“We? I assume this is at Blake’s house.”

Clarke snorted. “Can you imagine six people in my apartment?”

“When are you moving in together?”

“He gave me a couple drawers…and a key.”

“Sounds pretty official to me.”

“I haven’t _moved in,_ moved in,” Clarke knotted her brow as she took another sip of coffee.

“Clarke, stop it.” Raven knew that look. 

“Stop what?”

“Overthinking.”

Clarke tried to laugh it off, but she knew her friend was right. Now if she could only listen to her…

Clarke stopped by the gallery for a few hours after leaving Raven’s, calling to follow up on several short term artists she was booking for the remainder of the year leading up to the auction. She finished up around 6:00, calling Bellamy on her way out to her car. It felt brisk outside, much chillier than typical for a late September evening. She shivered, wishing she had brought a warmer jacket, and had just reached her car when Bellamy picked up.

“Hey, where are you?” His voice sounded groggy.

“Just leaving work now…you ok?”

“Yup, I just forgot to set my alarm and just woke up from a nap…What was I making for dinner?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. She should have known to remind him, he never remembered to set himself an alarm when he napped, relying on what she was now convinced was a fictional body clock. “Lemon chicken, I think.”

“Right…”

“You need me to get anything on the way home?”

“No,” she heard him smile, and just realized she had called his house home. 

“Ok, I’ll see you soon.” 

She found him in the kitchen wearing an apron over his work clothes, his curly hair brushed out of his face for once, and his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He smiled when he saw her, “Welcome home.”

She blushed, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Shut up.”

“Only if you cut that out and help me,” Bellamy suddenly pretended to be all business, but his eyes couldn’t hide how happy he was to see her, “The oven’s preheated and the chicken’s in, I just need you to make the salad and open the wine while I finish the asparagus and sweet potatoes.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “ _Three_ vegetable sides tonight?”

“It’s for the baby,” Bellamy directed her to the fridge where she found a box of spinach which she began to wash and dry.

“I’m hope you got dessert,” Clarke said in a warning tone. Octavia had always been a pretty healthy eater, raised under Bellamy’s influence, but during her pregnancy she had developed a serious sweet tooth.

Bellamy chuckled. “Yes, _Clarke._ There’s a chocolate tart in the fridge.”

“Good. You nervous?”

Bellamy looked at her quizzically. “Nervous?”

“Yeah, it would be ok if you were…in any normal relationship this would be pretty soon to do the whole meet the family thing.”

Bellamy laughed and went back to chopping garlic. “Soon is most definitely not the word I would use.”

Clarke smiled. 

The doorbell rang promptly at 6:30. Marcus and Abby were on the doorstep, closely followed by Lincoln and Octavia who had just pulled up. 

“Hey, Mom.” Clarke gave her mother a warm hug, “Where are the kids?”

“Maya’s babysitting.” Marcus answered, taking his wife’s jacket and meeting Bellamy’s eye. “I thought it would be nice to have dinner just with the grownups tonight.”

Bellamy led the way to the kitchen as Clarke waited by the door to greet Octavia and Lincoln. Lincoln was helping his wife down the cobblestone path Bellamy had recently laid from the driveway to the front porch. Her hair was down, and her free hand laid gently on her rounded stomach. She looked up at Clarke she opened the door for them, and both women were smiling from ear to ear. 

“About damn time,” she whispered into Clarke’s ear when she reached the doorway, and then quickly moved into the kitchen. 

Lincoln’s eyes twinkled down at Clarke and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Thanks for having us over. I know it’s probably a little overwhelming right now…”

“Only slightly.”

They joined the others in the kitchen.

—

Paige’s 9th birthday was in late October, and Marcus and Abby invited Bellamy and Clarke, along with Octavia and Lincoln, over to celebrate. Bellamy had insisted on buying Paige an extremely authentic doctor’s kit, and Clarke had to admit he did a great job selecting the gift.

Paige was running around in the yard with her brother and schoolmates when they arrived, playing a game of capture the flag, while Marcus prepared a feast in the kitchen. Lincoln was helping Marcus plate the food while Bellamy immediately began to tease his sister over potential baby names—that day he was angling for “Persephone, or alternatively, Proserpina.” 

“Daughter,” Abby greeted Clarke with a gentle hug, as they watched the Blake siblings banter. “You doing alright?” 

Clarke nodded, but Abby wasn’t satisfied with her lackluster response and pulled her quietly into the office. 

“Everything ok, Clarke?” asked her mother mildly, gently closing the French doors behind her. 

Clarke hesitated for a moment, mulling her words over in her head. “Do you ever feel guilty, being so happy?” Blunt was better. Clarke had never been great at mincing words.

Abby’s face didn’t register any surprise at the question, rather she sighed deeply as if she had been waiting for this conversation. “Clarke, honey…you know how much your dad loved me. He was my world and I was his. I didn’t think I would be so lucky to find another love half as special in my lifetime. But I did. Your dad didn’t want me to be unhappy. He told me that.” Abby’s eyes were shining with tears at this point. “He will _always_ be a part of me. Always. I carry him with me everywhere. But there is room in my heart for more. That’s how love works—love begets love, Clarke.” She reached out and brushed the brimming tears off her daughter’s cheeks. “You deserve to be happy, too. I know you have been fighting yourself over this, since you lost Lexa. But if you found someone who makes you feel loved and whom you can love back, you should count yourself blessed. Your father wanted nothing more than for your to be safe and happy too, Clarke.” 

Clarke’s lip trembled and she reached for her mother. “Thanks, Mom.”

“I love you, Clarke Griffin.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Clarke pulled back slightly, and Abby smoothed her daughter’s hair from her forehead. “Things are good with Bellamy, then?”

Clarke nodded with more conviction this time. “It’s still new, but it’s different with him. He’s been such a big part of my life for so long. That’s why I’ve been thinking about this so much.”

Abby’s face broke into a smile. “Clarke, you’ve always been so special to him. And I know he means the world to you too. This is a good thing.”

“It just seems so….surreal. Not just Bellamy…being happy.”

Abby chuckled, though a little sadly. “You’ll get used to it again, I promise.”

They rejoined the others in the kitchen a few minutes later. 

“Everything alright?” asked Bellamy in a low voice, brushing his lips to her temple. 

Clarke looked up at him and nodded. “It is, and it will be.”

Bellamy furrowed his brow in thought. 

“Stop worrying so much, you’ll age prematurely,” she teased.

“You’re one to talk,” he replied, but his concern faded. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. 

—-

They had their first real fight a few weeks later. They had fought before, of course, but as a couple stakes were much higher. It started over a text message. 

They were sitting on the couch watching a movie when Clarke’s phone lit up with a new text message. _Niylah._ Clarke quickly read and then deleted the message before she realized that Bellamy had seen the name. His arm, which had been draped over her shoulder, stiffened, and he removed it as he asked,

“Niylah?”

“Yeah, she just wanted to know if I could cover her shift today. I can tell her no, if that’s a problem…”

“It’s no problem,” Bellamy turned back to the tv. “I just don’t know why you were trying to hide it from me.”

“I wasn’t trying to hide anything, I just didn’t want to upset you.”

“I know you slept with her, I don’t care about that. I just don’t like the feeling that you’re lying to me.”

“Bellamy!” Clarke breathed exasperatedly, “I’m not hiding anything! I haven’t even seen Niylah since before we got together—“

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Bellamy spoke through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” Clarke shot back without thinking, texting Niylah back that she could take the shift. “You have no right to try and dictate who I talk to.”

Bellamy continued to stare straight ahead, but his cheeks flushed with anger, and Clarke briefly wished she had bitten her tongue. 

“There’s no one else who can work tonight, and I don’t want to leave Roan short handed.” Her tone was more straightforward than apologetic.

Bellamy said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard her. Clarke felt fury rising in her chest so she removed herself from the situation before she said something else she’d regret. She grabbed her coat and keys and left without saying another word. 

It only took her about five minutes to cool off and wish she hadn't left Bellamy in a fit of stupid anger, but she couldn’t turn back at that point. She checked her phone throughout the shift, hoping that he would text her but knowing he probably wouldn’t. She was right. Fortunately it was a slow night and Jasper wanted extra hours so he stayed to close and Clarke left at 9:30. 

She had just walked in the door when she saw Bellamy barreling down the stairs and the look on his face made her forget everything else that had happened that day. 

“Lincoln just called,” he said, fingers white knuckled on the end of the railing. His hair was mussed and his eyes were wide.

Clarke’s stomach dropped, “Is everything alright?”

“Octavia’s in labor,” Bellamy’s face was tight and he didn’t meet Clarke’s eyes. He reached into the coat closet.

“Oh…” Realization dawned on Clarke’s face. Octavia wasn’t due until the week of Thanksgiving.

“Yeah, it’s two weeks early,” Bellamy couldn’t hide the nervousness in his voice, muffled behind his wool collar. 

“Hey,” Clarke placed a hand on his arm as he began to button his coat. He looked up at her, finally meeting her eyes. “It’s going to be ok. Lots of women deliver much earlier than this. She’s going to be fine, and the baby’s going to be fine.” 

Bellamy continued to chew on his lower lip. Guilt swept over Clarke for the way she’d left the house earlier. She felt sick to her stomach. “You want me to come with you?”

Bellamy nodded quickly, “Yeah.” He grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” she kissed him on the cheek and grabbed her coat. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

They waited outside the maternity ward for about an hour before Lincoln found them, looking a little dazed and wearing a blue surgical apron over his clothes.

“Lincoln, how is she?” Bellamy asked, leaping up from his chair.

“She’s doing great. They say she’s ready to start pushing.”

“That’s fast, that’s good.” Clarke squeezed Bellamy’s hand reassuringly. 

“I have to head back in there, I just wanted to check in since I can’t use my phone—” 

“We’ll be right here.” Clarke reassured him. 

They took their seats again. Bellamy hadn’t let go of Clarke’s hand since they’d exited the car. 

“Hey, you need to get your mind off things?”

“Sure.”

“Ok, well…how’s the seminar going?”

“Final papers are due in a month, so I’m going to have to double my office hours. I’ll be home late on Tuesdays and Thursdays for a while.”

Clarke nodded. “I have that event coming up at the gallery anyway, so I’ll be working extra hours, especially with Lincoln on leave.”

Bellamy nodded, but he was clearly lost in his own thoughts. Clarke sat holding his hand in silence, wondering if there was anything she could do. Though she had never had any siblings growing up, as soon as she had met Bellamy she had known how important Octavia was to him. They had lost everything but each other when Octavia was just a child, and Bellamy had been forced to grow up too fast in order to take care of her. Clarke, despite the loss and pain she had suffered, had a very happy and stable childhood. She wished she could have shared that with Bellamy, Octavia, and Raven.

The first time she’d met the Blakes was the summer before her sophomore year of high school. Marcus had just taken them in, and threw a party to introduce them to the neighborhood kids. Octavia took to everyone very easily, laughing and making friends as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Bellamy, on the other hand, watched his sister like a hawk from across the room, arms crossed, scowl unyielding. Back then, Clarke thought he looked like he needed to relax, which coming from her was saying something. He wore a similar expression in the waiting room now, eyes fixed straight ahead. 

Finally, a doctor approached them in the waiting room. 

“You must be Octavia Ashley’s family,” she said, glancing up from her clipboard for a moment.

“How is she?” asked Bellamy, nervously.

“She’s doing well, and so is the baby. It was a quick and relatively easy labor, fortunately.”

Bellamy finally relaxed, his grip on Clarke’s fingers loosening.

“Can we see them?” Clarke asked.

“Right this way.” The doctor led them through the double doors into the delivery ward. 

Octavia was laying in bed, her face glistening with sweat and her long dark hair disheveled. Her bright eyes were locked on Lincoln, who held a tiny pink bundle in his arms. 

“Hey, big brother, hey Clarke.” Octavia rasped when they entered the room. Bellamy bent over to kiss her on the forehead, but as soon as he saw the baby in Lincoln’s arms, his face was filled with an almost childlike awe. 

“Want to hold her?” Octavia asked.

“You were right, you know,” chuckled Lincoln as he offered his daughter to her uncle. 

“Course I was.” Bellamy’s deep voice couldn’t hide the tremor of emotion. He cradled the infant in his arms and Clarke felt her heart swell in her chest. 

“Have you decided on a name yet?” she asked.

Octavia shared a glance with Lincoln and smiled. “We’ve decided on Jasmine for the first name, but we thought we’d leave the middle name up to the godparents.”

“By the way, will you be Jasmine’s godparents? Both of you,” Lincoln asked, smiling.

Clarke’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course.”

Bellamy stole a glance at Clarke and she nodded back.

“How about Jasmine Daphne?” he asked, cautiously.

“That’s a relief, we thought for sure you’d go with Pandora or Hecate or something,” Lincoln joked.

“Yeah, you can save those for your own kids, Bell.” Octavia scoffed good naturally, as Bellamy handed his niece back to her mother. 

“Is there anything I can get for you all?” Clarke asked.

Lincoln shook his head. “Luna’s on her way with some food, I think, if you want to stay.”

“No, you need your rest,” replied Bellamy, almost strictly. “We’ll be back to visit tomorrow.” 

“I’ll text you to see what time is best,” Clarke squeezed Octavia’s shoulder and gave Lincoln a hug on their way out. 

The ride home was silent, Bellamy staring out the passenger window and Clarke trying to focus on the road, though her mind was running a mile a minute. When they finally reached the house, it was nearly midnight. They went to bed right away. Bellamy was clearly exhausted, and though Clarke wanted to talk she knew better than to push it. 

She slept very poorly, and woke up much earlier than she wanted. Bellamy was still sleeping and probably would be for several hours. Clarke wanted to take our her frustration at the gym, but she didn’t feel like seeing or talking to anyone at the moment, so she compromised with a long run. When she got back, Bellamy was still in bed, but he was awake. She pulled out her headphones and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked up from his book, a little cold or perhaps just tired.

“Are we ok?”

“We’re fine, Clarke.”

Clarke bit her lip and frowned. “No, we’re not. I know I didn’t react very well yesterday-“ Bellamy laughed, a little derisively, but she pressed on, “but you really had no business being upset over a work text! Niylah and I are still friends, but that’s really all we ever were. I don’t love her—I don’t care about her like I care about you. If you can’t see that—“

“I know, Clarke,” his voice was low and full of regret. “I’m sorry. I reacted poorly too. I’m still getting used to this.”

“To what?”

“To you, being here, with me. I can't help feeling like it’s too good to last.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you left Walden, to be with Lexa, when you left the country, after—I can’t help if it’s selfish, it hurt. I missed you.”

“Bellamy, I'm not going to leave—” Clarke’s voice caught in her throat and Bellamy’s face was pained with guilt for what he’d just said. 

“I know, I’m sorry—“ he was reaching across to her, and she buried her head in his shoulder.

“I wasn’t leaving you, I was just trying to survive. I was trying to be happy, then I was trying to keep myself sane, keep moving forward.”

“Clarke, please—I shouldn’t have said anything—I was angry at myself for being angry. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you.“

“No, I need you to know that I’m here. I’m in this.”

“Me too.” He was stroking her hair.

“Sorry for crying all over you…I’m just really tired,” she pulled back and wiped her face. 

“I deserved it,” he said, gruffly.

“No, you don’t deserve it. You deserve to be happy, and loved.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened and his mouth set in a hard line. This sounded like the beginning of a breakup speech. 

“I need you to know that you are worth loving, worth staying for,” Clarke continued, grabbing his hands in hers, “I want you, I want this. I have for a long time. You have always meant so much to me, your friendship and your love. I’m sorry that I hurt you—”

“Clarke, please, stop,” he traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb, voice catching in his throat. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Of course I do, you idiot!” Clarke gazed up at him with a mix of frustration and longing. “I love you.”

Bellamy laughed, amazed that he had swung so quickly from despair to delusional happiness. It was such a relief to hear her say the words he’d wanted to say to her for so long. He pulled her close to him, as he whispered the words back to her, and she melted into his embrace.


	7. Changes

Clarke and Bellamy visited the hospital multiple times over the next few days, Bellamy bringing something increasingly absurd for his niece every time— first it was a small stuffed fawn (Octavia’s favorite movie growing up had been Bambi), next time a pair of tiny slippers that were still far too large for a newborn, then finally a beautifully illustrated copy of Bulfinch’s Mythology—“a practical gift,” Bellamy claimed, ignoring Clarke’s and Octavia’s uncontrollable cackles, “for when she’s older.”

Bellamy was, in Clarke’s opinion, unfairly adorable with his niece. He completely melted whenever he was around Jasmine, and rarely gave anyone else the opportunity to hold her. Clarke didn’t really mind that part. She had never been especially keen on babies. Though she thought she probably wanted kids of her own someday, Clarke never had strong feelings about having kids with any previous partners, so it had always seemed like a very abstract concept. She had to admit, however, seeing Bellamy with Jasmine in his arms made her feel a bit differently than she had before. 

Octavia and the baby were set to leave the hospital after a few days, and Bellamy had promised Lincoln that they would have the house ready for them so he wouldn't have to worry about a thing. Abby and Marcus were out shopping to stock the fridge, while Bellamy and Clarke cleaned and tidied up. The house was a bit messier than usual, since Octavia’s labor had come on early and rather quickly, but it didn’t take them too long to get things sorted. They worked separately in the bathrooms and living area for the first hour, then eventually made their way to the kitchen which they tackled together. 

Bellamy had just returned from taking out the trash, and Clarke noticed he had a rather strange expression on his face.

“You alright?” she paused her scrubbing of the stovetop to look closely at him.

Bellamy smiled, and though he was tired the smile reached his eyes. “It’s just so weird that O is a mom now,” he admitted, running a hand over his glistening forehead and through his unruly hair, “I feel like yesterday I was teaching her how to ride a bike and doing her pigtails.” It was clear in his face that he was still just processing the events of the past few days. 

Clarke nodded, handing him a glass of water. “I know, it’s strange she’s the first one to kind of settle down, she always seemed so wild back when we were kids. But Wells and I have both made career changes, you and Raven have been making waves in academia, so I guess it makes sense that she’s at this point before anyone else. The rest of us are a little behind on the normal relationship milestones in comparison.”

“Sure, I guess…I mean, she is my little sister, but I never assumed I’d be the one to settle down first, not after I met Lincoln,” Bellamy chuckled and placed the now empty glass down on the counter, as the memory of a younger Octavia came to him, “As soon as I saw her with him, I knew that was it for her. She just completely adored him from the moment they met. And he understood her so well from day one.”

Clarke smiled gently to hear him talk with such tenderness. “That’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, when you know…you know.”

Clarke’s heart was beating in her throat. “You ever think about having kids?” She tried to keep her voice light and casual as she unloaded the dishwasher, but she could see Bellamy out of the corner of her eye. He was sweeping the kitchen floor, and he paused his motions for a split second to push his glasses up, then continued working.

“Sure,” he replied, voice warm and full of amusement, then proceeding a bit more cautiously, “you?”

Clarke shrugged, “I have. Lots of factors to consider.”

“Such as?” he was standing a little closer now, and she turned to meet his eye.

“Economic considerations, for one. Whether you and your partner have time and are in the right point in your relationship, assuming you both want kids. How many, if any. Whether to have biological children or adopt…”

“You sound like you may have devoted some thought to this lately.” She could tell he was trying very hard to keep from smirking, and he nearly succeeded. 

“I’d consider having kids with you.” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

Bellamy raised his eyebrows, “The baby holding thing get you a little turned on, huh?”

Clarke rolled her eyes and turned back to the refrigerator. “Yeah, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

He pulled her towards him, laughing, and kissed the top of her head, his hands lingering on her hips. She had just turned to face him when they heard the front door knob turn and Bellamy jumped. They were suddenly teenagers again, and he didn’t want to be caught in a compromising position. Clarke met his eyes, and his face was slightly flushed, though he grinned down at her. She laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his chin. 

“ _Mom_ , Clarke and Bellamy were _kissing_ ,” exclaimed Paige, who entered the kitchen first holding a small bag of produce. Ian, just on her heels, mirrored his sister’s mock disgust. 

“ _Were not_ ,” taunted Bellamy in an exaggeratedly defiant tone, and picked the giggling girl up, throwing her over his shoulder.

—-

Clarke spent most of her time the next two weeks in the gallery, preparing for the upcoming auction as well as taking over Lincoln’s responsibilities while he was on leave. 

“Sorry all this is falling on you right before the holidays,” he had apologized, “I know you probably want to be spending more time with friends and family this time of year.”

“I really don’t mind,” Clarke had replied brightly. The business kept her mind occupied, during what was typically a difficult period. Clarke suspected that Lincoln knew this. “Besides,” she continued, teasing “it’s not like Octavia planned to go into labor two weeks early, right?”

Lincoln chuckled, “I’m not sure, she was pretty done with the whole pregnancy thing by October.”

Clarke found herself looking for a creative outlet at home while she worked on the show. Being surrounded by Lincoln’s art inspired her to create more of her own, and since he had asked her to create a few pieces to contribute, she tried to live up to the expectations. She had laid out a bunch of charcoal studies she was working from in the dining room, in addition to her canvas stretching and priming supplies, but one day she came home and found all of her things had been moved to one of the spare bedrooms. In the middle of the room, there was a brand new easel. Bellamy was still at work, he must have set it up after she’d left for the day. Clarke’s eyes briefly pricked with tears of happiness, but she immediately got to work.

Bellamy came home a few hours later and found her covered in paint and completely happy.

“I know you wanted me out of the dining room, but you didn’t have to do all this,” Clarke greeted him with a kiss. 

“I know. But I figured you could use some space to work at home with the event coming up.”

“Mmm, you weren’t wrong.”

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No, what time is it?”

“Almost eight. Finish up and meet me in the kitchen, I’m making omelettes.”

—

Wells Jaha came home to Walden the week of Thanksgiving. Clarke picked him up from the airport and they drove straight to The Crown for happy hour. 

“How’s Chicago, really?” Clarke asked. “You like your firm? Do you have any time for your girlfriend with your crazy lawyer hours?” Wells had been dating Sasha, an E.M.T., for about six months at that point. 

“It’s been difficult when I have a big case to work on, but she gets it. I was thinking about asking her to move in with me after the holidays, actually.”

“Wells! That’s amazing. Has your dad met her yet?”

“Yeah, he came out and visited last month.”

“How did it go?”

“You know my dad,” Wells sighed, “It was a very serious conversation that began and ended with a stump speech.”

Clarke chuckled, “I’m sure he meant well.”

“Yeah, showing affection has never been his strong suit. He doesn’t say I love you but he always offers to pick up the tab. I think he’s happy I’m on a career path he approves of, finally…Anyway, how are things with you and Bellamy?”

“Things are…good. Sometimes I’m worried we’re moving a little fast, but then I remember it’s Bellamy, and I can relax. It’s different, a little strange to be with someone I’ve known for so long. I’ve never dated anyone I was really friends with first, I guess.”

Wells nodded. “That’s true. For the record, after I stopped hating him junior year of high school I started really liking him. He’s always been good for you.”

“Good for me how?”

“Clarke, I don’t know if you know this but you used to be kind of uptight.”

Clarke laughed and took another sip of her beer. “Yeah, you may have mentioned that once or twice.”

They talked about old times for a few more drinks, then Clarke dropped Wells at his father’s before heading home. Wells had promised to stop by Abby and Marcus’ on Thanksgiving day, and Clarke was actually looking forward to the holidays this year. Her heart felt full. 

—

“Clarke, don’t forget to put the pies on the sideboard,” Marcus called to her from his place in the kitchen. He was making fresh whipped cream, with Paige’s help, while Clarke set up the dessert station. Bellamy and Roan were clearing the table, and John Murphy had (to everyone’s surprise) begun to do the dishes, unasked. Bellamy had invited his T.A. along last minute. With Marcus and Abby it was always the more, the merrier around the holidays and Murphy didn’t have anywhere else to be. Raven had invited her assistant Emori as well, since she didn’t have family in the area either and wasn’t planning on returning home to Michigan for such a short visit. The two of them seemed to hit it off, Bellamy and Raven were amused to notice, observing the easy way they laughed and talked together, Emori drying as Murphy washed.

“Dinner was absolutely amazing, Marcus,” Lincoln had passed his daughter over to Abby for the time being, and sat back in his chair, his arm around his wife’s waist. 

“It’s better every year, I swear,” Octavia agreed. “I remember our first Thanksgiving here, you made the same stuffing I think.”

“But you still preferred the canned cranberry sauce, O,” Bellamy teased as he cleared the last of the dinner plates. The group was spread out over two tables, the main dining table wasn’t large enough to seat them all. Wells had joined them for dessert, along with Miller and Jackson, who’d just left Miller’s parents house. 

Bellamy set the few remaining plates to soak in the sink, and turned to watch Clarke as the Murphy and Emori headed into the dining room after Marcus. She was wiping down the kitchen counter, head bowed slightly, but a small smile played at her lips. She looked up and caught his eye.

“What’s so funny, princess?”

“Nothing, I’m just…” her face broke into the brightest smile, “Happy to be here, with everyone, under one roof.”

He grinned back. “Me too.”

She had stepped closer to him, her blue eyes looked up at him, and he forgot they were in a house full of people when he pulled her into a deep kiss. She took a moment to catch her breath after he released her, and he smoothed a hand over her hair, tugging lightly on her plait.

“You used to wear it like this all the time, in high school.”

Clarke smiled. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“I like it,” he murmured into her neck, his lips brushing against her skin briefly before they broke apart and rejoined the others.   
Marcus was standing at the sideboard, preparing to plate the desserts, while Abby served coffee. Bellamy glanced around at the group and smiled.

“I’d say this moment calls for a toast,” he began, catching Clarke’s eye. She nodded back at him, and Bellamy continued in a clear voice. “I just want to recognize Abby and Marcus, not only for hosting us all today, but for living in a way as to exemplify true partnership, not only for being extraordinary parents to Clarke and Ian and Paige, but to me and O, and everyone here, honestly. I bet there’s not a person at this table who hasn’t felt the love and the warmth emanating from this home, and that includes our new friends.”

He tipped his head to Murphy and Emori. “Hear, hear!” Murphy rejoined, raising a glass. 

“So I just want to thank you both,” Bellamy continued, “For everything.”

Clarke squeezed his hand as they all raised their glasses. Abby smiled fondly at them, and rested her head on Marcus' shoulder. 

“I thought academia would make you more long-winded,” teased Miller, winding his arm over Jackson’s shoulder, “but that speech was shorter than the ones you used to give before soccer tournaments.” 

“You were the one who needed all the motivating,” Bellamy rejoined, claiming his seat, and the conversation devolved into remembering old times and who had said what to who in high school. 

If someone had told Clarke in high school that she would be here, with Bellamy, with her family, ten years later, she wouldn't have believed them. Her life definitely hadn't turned out like she would have expected, or even hoped, back then. It was better.

—

It was December 8th, the day of the fundraiser. Clarke had been working on last minute details since 6:00am, confirming with the caterers, setting up the bar, and making sure the auction list was perfectly accurate. She went home to shower and change at 5:00pm, as soon as all the staff was all present and on task under Lincoln’s watchful eye. 

She had budgeted a little more time on her appearance than usual, blow drying and brushing her hair up and off her neck into a bun. She kept most of her makeup simple as usual, but opted for a bright red lipstick. Her dress was a simple navy sheath. It ended just about the knee, but there was small slit in the front, and the shape of it flattered her every curve. She felt excited, confident, and beautiful. She was proud of all the work she’d done to make this event a success, and ultimately looked forward to what she and Lincoln would be able to do with the proceeds. She felt happy, and lucky. 

Bellamy was still at work when she texted him, grading final papers, so she left the house alone and made it to the gallery by 7:00pm, just in time to make some finishing touches on the decor. 

Guests began arriving shortly, and the festivities were off and rolling. The donated food and drinks went over very well, and Clarke was grateful to see Jasper and Niylah handling the bar in the most professional manner. Thelonius Jaha was in attendance, as well as many of Abby Griffin’s colleagues from the hospital. Raven and Roan, Miller and Jackson, and even some of Bellamy’s students came. Clarke’s heart swelled to see so many people she and Lincoln cared about working to make this event a success. Lincoln and Octavia had left Jasmine with a sitter for the first time, and seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. 

Clarke realized at 9:30pm that she hadn’t seen Bellamy yet. The auctioneer was rolling on with the list, bids and checks were coming in left and right. Her phone was in the back and she thought she must have missed a call from him explaining that he got caught up late. She wished he could be there, but was too busy to bother herself about it for long, though the thought that he should be there by then continued to nag at the back of her mind. 

It was only when she saw Octavia’s face across the room that she knew something was wrong. Octavia had just taken a phone call out in the entryway, and when she returned she immediately locked eyes with Clarke and made her way over to her.

“I thought it was the babysitter, it was the hospital,” her voice was low and her hands shook. Lincoln was suddenly at her elbow, his face searching hers. “It’s Bell…there was an accident.”

Time stopped. Clarke’s heart was beating in her chest so hard she was sure it was preventing her lungs from drawing breath. The scene around her blurred, she could only see Octavia’s face. Lincoln was saying something, but she couldn’t hear what it was. _This can’t be happening again…_


	8. Recovery

Octavia had taken her hand, and the pressure of her fingers brought Clarke back to reality. They were following Lincoln to the car, somehow Clarke had her coat. Lincoln had apparently given the event operations over to Niylah and Raven.  

Clarke turned to Octavia when they reached the car, her eyes filled with tears as she desperately tried to keep her voice steady, “What happened? I don’t think I heard you say what happened.”

“There was a car accident, he was on his way here and…I think it was a drunk driver. Bell’s in surgery right now. That’s all I know,” Octavia wiped her cheek with the side of her hand and opened the car door. “Come on, we won’t know more until we can talk to the doctor.”

No one spoke on the ride over. Lincoln had the radio tuned to NPR, and Clarke was grateful for something to fill the terrible silence. She tried not to think of Bellamy lying broken, unconscious, and dying on an operating table. She glanced at Octavia and knew she was picturing the same horrible thing. 

Everything was a blur until they reached the emergency room. Abby and Marcus arrived just after they did, followed a few minutes later by Jackson and Miller. Clarke saw them out of the corner of her eye, felt the reassuring pressure of her mother’s touch and heard Jackson’s voice as he spoke with the surgeon. _This wasn’t happening. It was a dream, she was dreaming and she would wake up…_

“—we were able to stop the internal bleeding very quickly, but it will take some time before the anesthesia wears off. He’s got a broken leg, a few cracked ribs, and at the very least a moderate concussion—“

“Can we see him?” Octavia broke in, grasping Clarke’s arm and looking to the surgeon with a pleading expression.

“You should be prepared to see him looking quite rough, but he pulled through the surgery like a champ. He’s going to be in a lot of pain for a few days, and the recovery to full mobility will be long, but he’ll make it.”

Clarke couldn’t let herself believe that until he saw him herself. She followed Octavia into the recovery room, holding her breath. Lincoln trailed behind them, while the others waited in the atrium. Bellamy was laying in bed, his left arm wrapped in bandages and his left leg elevated in a cast. There was a bandage on his forehead and his hair was pushed back. He looked so helpless, like Clarke had never seen him. Octavia caught her breath as she approached the bed. Clarke held back, trying to give Octavia space with her brother for a brief moment. The dark haired woman bent over to caress her brother’s forehead, then turned back to Clarke.

“He’s gonna be ok, Clarke.” Her eyes were shining, and she reached for Clarke’s hand. Clarke began to weep, quietly, tears streaming down her face as she gazed at the figure in the bed. Octavia guided her into a chair at Bellamy’s bedside, and Clarke reached for his hand. They sat there for some time, Octavia perched on the bedside, still holding Clarke’s other hand. 

Clarke didn’t know how long it had been before another doctor approached them with Bellamy’s test results. “He will probably wake up within the next few hours, but he will need to remain on bedrest for at least four to six days. No strenuous activity and no visual stimulation. You’ll need to ice his ribs to help with the pain and swelling, and make sure he rests. Octavia Blake, the emergency contact listed, you’re the wife?”

“No, I’m his sister…this is his girlfriend, Clarke.”

“I see. Well the two of you will have to make sure he adheres to these rules, no exceptions. He shouldn’t risk prolonging the concussion symptoms or injuring himself further.”

“We’re on it, doc,” Octavia feigned cheeriness. Lincoln joined them a moment later. 

“Babysitter just called to check in…”

“You two should get home to Jasmine—“ Clarke spoke for the first time in what felt like hours, her voice low and hoarse.

Lincoln and Octavia shared a look, then Octavia gave Clarke a hug. “We’ll get some sleep and be back in a few hours to trade off with you.”

“I’ll tell Abby to come up, if that’s ok,” Lincoln added.

Clarke nodded, too drained to respond verbally. Her mother joined her a moment later, and the two women sat in silence. Clarke nodded off eventually, her head resting on her Abby’s shoulder. She slept for about an hour, until a steady beeping broke into her feverish dreams. She jerked awake, the pain in her neck distracting her from her memory of that night until she saw Bellamy’s quiet form before her. 

“It’s alright, Clarke,” Abby smoothed her hair, and pointed to the monitor. “He’s just starting to come out of his sedation. It’s a good sign,” her face broke into a smile. “I’ll go get Dr Nyko.”

Clarke sat rigidly still, hardly daring to breathe, clutching Bellamy’s hand as his eyelids gently began to flutter. She read the pain on his face as he slowly regained consciousness, but the moment he saw her, he smiled. 

“Hey, princess.”

“Hey,” she replied tearfully. 

His brow furrowed, “What happened? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, Bellamy. You were in a car accident…it was pretty bad, but you’re going to be ok.”

“Well, that explains why I feel like hell,” He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, grimacing a little, then he looked her up and down, “Hey, you look really nice—I missed the auction, didn't I? I’m really sorry…”

Clarke laughed with relief, but it sounded more like a sob. “Yeah, that’s been the hardest part of this whole ordeal.” Her face was pale and streaked with tears, her hair had fallen flat, and her dress was wrinkled, but Bellamy didn’t seem to have noticed any of that as he grasped her hand with all the strength he could muster and held her gaze.  

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to apologize for getting in a car wreck, but I feel like I should…”

“You aren’t. I’m just…I’m just glad you’re ok,” Clarke bent over to kiss him gently, once on the temple and again on the lips. He smiled up at her. 

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours, after the surgery, but that’s to be expected. They will probably want to keep you a bit longer for observation.”

“You should go home and get some rest.”

Clarke shook her head, “I’m fine. Octavia’s coming back to relieve me in a bit, then I’ll go home.”

“I’ll be fine on my own—shit, O is going to give me an earful, isn’t she?” Bellamy winced in anticipation of his sister’s imagined ire. 

“She’s just glad you’re ok, trust me,” Clarke drew a shaky breath, “you scared us.”

Bellamy’s response was interrupted by the arrival of Abby Griffin and Dr Nyko. Abby’s face broke into a warm smile to see Bellamy awake and alert. She rested her hands on Clarke’s shoulders as the doctor began to run some routine tests. Clarke didn’t let go of Bellamy’s hand until Octavia and Lincoln arrived to relieve her.

Dr Nyko monitored Bellamy’s progress for the next few days, then released him into the custody of his sister and the Griffin women. Miller and Jackson brought him home and helped him upstairs, where Clarke and Octavia had done their best to make his bed a little more comfortable since he was going to be largely confined to it for the next few weeks. 

Clarke and Bellamy were practically buried under gifts from the moment Bellamy came home. Everyone they knew stopped by with meals and well wishes. Clarke was grateful that no one brought flowers: after her father and Lexa, even the sight of fresh flowers was enough to turn her stomach. 

Raven and Roan came by to help clean the place and make sure Clarke was taking care of herself as well as Bellamy, and Octavia and Lincoln brought Jasmine to distract Bellamy from his lack of control as often as possible. Miller and Jackson, Abby, Marcus and the kids were regular visitors as well, even some of Bellamy’s students stopped by once or twice. Monty and Jasper brought a very sweet card and a jar of homemade moonshine that Bellamy made Clarke swear to dump down the drain for fear it would cause blindness. John Murphy had taken the majority of the administrative responsibilities off Bellamy’s plate for the end of the semester, just stopping by for a few hours one day to have him sign off on final grades.

It was two days before Christmas that Raven finally convinced Clarke to leave the house. They went to see a stupid blockbuster, and got drinks afterwards. It was only a few hours, but it did Clarke a lot of good. Raven had driven, so Clarke was free to relax and have an extra drink or two. When she returned home, Bellamy was asleep. She undressed and curled up into bed next to him, trying not to disturb him, but he stirred.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered, stroking the hair on his temple.

“It’s alright. How was girl’s night?"

“Good,” Clarke sighed, feeling  “How are you feeling?”

“Like all my muscles are atrophying and my brain’s turned to mush.”

“Oh, well that sounds normal.” Clarke cuddled closer. The wine was starting to work on her combined with his warmth. They hadn’t been intimate since before the accident, almost three weeks prior, and she missed him.

Bellamy was running a hand down her side. “Hey, you know what I want for Christmas this year?”

“Two working legs?”

Bellamy chuckled and closed his eyes, “That would be nice.”

“What do you really want?” Clarke gently slid beneath the covers and cradled him. “Shh, don’t move…doctor’s orders.”

Bellamy bit his lower lip, but the slight pain in his ribs was worth it. She had his underwear off in no time, and set to work as gently as possible. 

“I was starting to forget what you looked like below the waist,” Clarke murmured afterward, “Did that hurt too much?” She suddenly seemed worried.

“Just the right amount,” Bellamy teased, and gently pulled her towards him for a kiss.

—

“Hey Blake, can you explain to me why you haven’t proposed to Clarke yet?”

Bellamy looked up with a slightly exasperated expression at the woman sitting opposite him.

“Hey Raven, welcome to my personal life. I thought we were supposed to be meeting to discuss fighting institutional bias in hiring.”

“Is it the injury?” she continued, ignoring him, “I know the cast's off, but are you having trouble getting down on one knee these days?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, “I don’t think anyone even does that anymore.”

“What, proposes?”

“No, gets down on one knee.”

Raven shrugged. “You can feel free to make it your own. Do whatever feel natural.”

Bellamy laughed, “Thanks for your permission. What brought this on?” His face filled with momentary concern, “Have you talked to Clarke about this or something?”

It was Raven’s turn to roll her eyes, “No, she’s impossible with stuff like this.”

Bellamy relaxed back in his chair. After all, it wasn’t like this was something he hadn’t considered. He had been pretty sure he could be happy spending his life with Clarke back when they were just friends, but the timing had never worked out. By this point, when they were older and (theoretically) wise, and been together for months, he was sure she was it for him. He’d thought about proposing, not seriously planned it, but the thought crossed his mind at least once a day. Still, marriage was a huge commitment, and things were so good right now that he didn’t see the need to change that. He turned the question back on Raven. 

“Why haven’t you proposed to Roan yet? You two have been together for years, you live together, you’re practically married already, what’s a piece of paper at this point? It would sure get his mom off your back, right?”

Raven wrinkled her nose at the thought of her effective mother in law. “No, you’re right. We talked about it the other night, actually. He said he wants to get married in a few years. It seems to matter to him, so I agreed I’d do it.”

Bellamy chuckled, “How very casual.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Raven continued in earnest, “it’s just casual to me, I know that I love Roan and he loves me, that’s all I need. But you care more about the romance and the tradition of it all, and I think Clarke does too. Not that I think she wants a big wedding or anything, but after everything she’s been through in the past few years, I just wish she had some real happy memories to hold onto.”

Bellamy nodded. “I know, Raven, but that’s not really a good reason to propose…”

“Of course not, you propose because you love her and she’s the light of your life and all that bullshit.”

“Do I have your permission to use those words in my wedding vows?” Bellamy asked solemnly. 

“Shut up, you know I’m right.”

“Maybe.”

“I know you’ve been in love with her forever, Bellamy. That’s not going to change.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed mildly, returning to his paperwork.

“Well, that was the first item on my agenda, let’s move to auditing hiring practices—“

Bellamy chuckled but followed her lead, putting distracting thoughts of marrying Clarke at the back of his mind for the time being. 

—

Bellamy stopped by Marcus and Abby’s for dinner one night later that winter while Clarke was working late. Marcus went upstairs to read Paige a bedtime story (and Ian, though he would never admit to listening in from the adjoining room), and Abby made coffee. 

“It seems like you’re recovering quite well,” Abby handed Bellamy a cup of coffee, “How is the new semester going?”

“Fine, so far,” Bellamy replied, a little nervously. 

Marcus had joined them. “So, what’s on your mind, Bellamy?”

Bellamy clenched his jaw and smirked slightly. He was feeling a bit awkward, truth be told, but he steeled his resolve and carried through with his intent. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” he was looking at Abby directly but shifted his gaze to include Marcus, “about Clarke. I want to—I want to ask her to marry me.”

Abby shared a quick glance with her husband. Both were smiling when they looked back at Bellamy.

“Have you discussed this, marriage, with Clarke?” Marcus queried.

“We have, in rather general terms, but yes.”

Bellamy glanced back at Abby. She had been silent, her shining eyes fixed on Marcus, and her hand clasped in his. When Bellamy paused, she turned back to him and broke the silence. 

“We love you, Bellamy, as much as we love Clarke. I know you love her.”

“I do,” Bellamy’s voice was thick with emotion but his gaze was unwavering. He was the first to chuckle at the choice of words, then Abby and Marcus followed suit. 

“I know that this seems old fashioned of me, but I think the world of both of you, and it didn’t seem right to go any further without discussing it with you. I love Clarke more than anything or anyone, and I promise I always will.” 

“Have you looked at rings yet?” Abby interjected.

“Yes, a little. I know what Clarke likes, in general, but I haven’t found anything that’s quite right.”

Marcus and Abby shared another look, this time a bit longer. Without a word, Marcus nodded to Abby and she stood up from the table and quietly walked into the study with purpose. She returned quickly with a small blue box, which she handed to Bellamy. “This was Jake’s grandmother’s ring. It’s a family heirloom. You don’t have to use it, but if you want to, it’s yours.”

Bellamy stared at her in shock. He opened the box and gazed on a simple gold ring with a single diamond set in silver filagree. “Are you sure?”

Abby smiled, and he knew. “Nothing would make me happier, Bellamy.”

—

“You know it’s been about a year?” Bellamy asked, running his fingers down Clarke’s spine. They were laying in bed together on a Sunday afternoon, talking softly about nothing in particular. 

Clarke looked up at him, blue eyes clear as a summer sky. “About a year since we started dating?”

“Yeah, well…about ten months, two weeks, give or take. If you want to be precise.”

Clarke snickered, “You know how I appreciate precision. Disappointed you don’t have it down to the hour though.”

Bellamy grinned. “That entire weekend was such a blur…apologies.”

Clarke grinned back, running her thumb along the line of his cheek. “We should do something fun to celebrate our anniversary.”

“Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“Let’s plan a trip—just a day, or a weekend maybe.” It had been such an eventful year that they hadn't made it out of town together. 

Bellamy smiled. “Sure, I can work with that.”

—-

Bellamy rented a cabin on Lake Phoenix for the two of them the weekend before classes started. He planned everything, packing food, wine, and a little whiskey. He wasn’t sure if Clarke knew what else he was planning, but he had a sneaking suspicion she did. He was planning on waiting until the second day, and asking her when they were out on a hike, just the two of them with the entire forest surrounding them. But the morning they arrived, he discovered he couldn’t wait. He had been in the shower, cleaning up after a run, and walked into the bedroom to see Clarke sprawled on the bed, wearing one of his t shirts with her nose buried in an old copy of _Pride & Prejudice._ Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, her nose was a little sunburned, and her lips jerked into a smile as she read a particularly funny passage. Bellamy’s breath caught in his throat, and he stopped dead in wonder at her and at how lucky he was to have her in his life. Clarke looked up, her eyes shifting from humor to worry briefly, then softening when she knew he was alright.

“Good shower?” she joked, her expression quizzical.

“Great.” Bellamy slipped into a pair of shorts and jumped into bed behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and nuzzling his head in her shoulder. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Clarke asked lazily, stretching her limbs and loosely grazing his curls with her arm.

“Marry me.”

Clarke sat up, slow but tense, gazing at him with a combination of shock and what he hoped was pleasure. She didn’t speak, just stared. 

“I want to marry you, Clarke. I love you, and I always will.” He ran a hand over her hair, and then turned to pull a box from the suitcase beside the bed. He handed it to her, his awkwardness tempered by earnestness. “Marry me, Clarke.”

Clarke’s began to grin, and it was as if the sun was rising. Her eyes had been locked on his, but when she opened the box and saw the ring she teared up. 

“Oh my god, Bellamy…” she whispered.

Bellamy ran a hand along her cheek, “Is that a yes?”

Clarke laughed and a tear sprang free of her eyes. “Yes. _Yes,_ ” she leaned forward to cup his face in her hands, kissing him softly. "I love you so much."

Bellamy pulled her close to him. “I love you, Clarke.”

Clarke laughed again, “I meant what’s the plan for lunch, by the way, you idiot.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Whatever the hell you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr!](https://tracylorde.tumblr.com)


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